


Christmas carols

by J_Shute_Norway



Category: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964), Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute_Norway/pseuds/J_Shute_Norway
Summary: Fluffy yuletide one-shots based on popular christmas songs. Starting with rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, though the rest are up to you to figure out! Ideally will update with a few stories each festive season, so remember to subscribe!





	1. Chapter 1

“Tundra town is cold this evening,” Nick said softly, his breath misting in front of him before being carried away in the wind. He wrapped his thickly clothed arms tighter around his chest, keeping the warmth in before looking down to Judy.

“It’s _always_ cold in Tundra-town,” she chided.

Nick’s eyes widened as she said that, a grin growing on his muzzle, and like an excited kit skipped up and down. Judy looked at him curiously as he calmed down, before he leant in close to her and shook his head.

“Then you know nothing, Judy Hopps,” he said, his voice both wise, mysterious and seductive at the same time.

Judy rolled her eyes, before bothering to look her partner in the eyes. “You said it was cold so I would say that, wouldn’t you?”

Nick looked up at the sky, shrugging his shoulders as he answered. “That is certainly a possibility… albeit a very unlikely one…”

“Nick,” the bunny cop teased, “you’ve been acting this way ever since I got you the books.”

“It’s called a hustle, sweetheart,” he said innocently.

Judy put on a small bust of speed and cut in front of him, before turning around on the spot and, carrying on at the same pace only backwards, locking her eyes on Nick.

“It’s called being a geek, Slick!”

If the jab had hit him he didn’t show it, instead pouncing on the new opportunity. “I’ll wear that like armour,” he proudly boasted, drumming his chest with his fist. “…and it can never be used to hurt me!”

“And someone will not be getting the Lord of the rings audiobook,” Judy replied.

This time Nick did react, his palms reaching out to the sky as he cried out. “Noooo! I’ll never be able to experience the world of mammal earth, as read by Sean Preen!”

“And you’ll never be primed up and desperate to make references while we’re working,” Judy said happily, turning around and carrying on walking in the same direction as before. “Now come on, we’ve got to walk into this reindeer herd and make sure they’re not up to no good.”

Nick blinked, and then smiled. “Judy,” he said.

“What?”

“One does not simply walk into a reindeer herd.”

.

“…..Urghhhhh,” Judy groaned, facepalming as Nick jogged back up next to her. “I really walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Did you carrots?” the fox asked out loud.

“Yes, yes you/I did!” they both said at the same time.

“Anyway, I’ll stop now, we’re here,” Nick announced, as they paused at the edge of a large park. Before them the square was laid out, cleared flagstones around the outside and a great circle of fresh white powder snow laying in the middle. At the very centre, rising up, stood a perfect spire of snow, as if a mathematician had got hold of the weather and plugged in his favourite inverse equation. All around it, great figures bounded and leaped through the sea of powder, kicking up great clouds as they went. At least two dozen reindeer calves, boys and girls, racing after each other. One of them seemed particularly repellent, everyone keeping a wide berth as he scooped up a ball and fired it at the nearest player. Seeing it coming, he ducked downed into the snow, leaving just a pair of antlers sticking out. The projectile sailed through the gap between them, burrowing into the depths of the white field beyond and vanishing from view. The ducking buck got up and, gloating in his victory, blew a loud raspberry and waved his arms about, mocking his failed attacker.

A second snowball came, and hit him dead on his face.

“You’re it, Donny!” the previous holder of the title called, before turning and bounding off in the opposite direction.

“Not for long,” he called out, snapping out of his shock and shaking the snow from his face. A predatory look in his eyes, he balled up a snowball and let it fly, almost clipping another mammal.

“Almost!” she called, before changing direction and dodging another ball.

.

Nearby, both Nick and Judy slipped through the black iron gates of the park and walked over to a nearby bench.

“Ahhhh,” Nick sighed, relaxing as he felt his pads touch the warm pavement beneath him. “Zootopia, where your tax dollars are used to heat up pavements in areas that even more tax dollars are used to freeze down. How I love you.”

“Well, it’s my tax dollars isn’t it,” Judy pointed out. “How many of your tax dollars went into this?”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly, as did his grin. “You wound me, Carrots,” he said, swooning. “I’d like you to know that I am now a law-abiding member of society, who pays his taxes and has repaid those I owe this fair city. So, I am perfectly justified in complaining about the inefficiency that I’m currently enjoying very much. Thankyou.”

“And do you enjoy that more or less than a sit down?” the bunny asked, hopping up onto the bench as she spoke.

“Sit down,” Nick replied, sitting down next to her. “Definitely.”

As he did so, she turned to look at the playing mammals and smiled. “I don’t think we need to give them any warnings, do we?” she asked.

“No,” Nick replied. “But I think we can stick around here for just a little bit.”

“Funny thing that,” Judy commented. “Me too… me too…”

They sat in silence, watching the game carry on. Various mammals would be hit by a snowball and become it, before unleashing their own improvised arsenal. The two officers watched in silence, happy to see others being so.

It was ten its later when one of Judy’s ears rose slightly. Shortly after, Nick’s did too, and they both turned around as they heard the running. When the hooves hit the stones, the playing children paused and turned to look. Running past the bench was another reindeer. A youngish boy, two small antlers on the top of his head and a nose that was mostly covered by a large red spot.

“Hey guys!” he called out happily. “You must have got the dates you gave to me wrong! But I saw you on furbook, and here I am!” He jogged forwards, with both Nick and Judy watching. The former sat up uneasily, the hair on the back of his neck and on his tail slowly rising up. Noticing it, Judy leant over to put a paw on his shoulder. He stopped, glancing down at her.

“It’s probably nothing,” she said calmly.

Nick glanced back forwards, spotting the new reindeer walk into the middle of a silent, staring crowd. “Well, just be ready in…”

He never finished his sentence, instead jumping up as the other reindeers let loose a hailstorm of snowballs, all directed at the new kid.

“Go home, Rudolf!” one screamed.

“Get lost freak nose!” another cried.

His arms were up in front of his face, shielding him from the assault, only for his attackers to flank him and hit both sides of his head.

“Stop this now!” Judy cried out, holding up her badge.

“Is she a cop?” one asked, looking to another.

“She’s a bunny!”

“We all know there is a bunny cop guys!” another one warned, slowly stepping back.

“And a fox one!” Nick shouted out, as he ran on all fours across the top crust of the snow to reach Rudolf. “Who is currently very angry!”

“I want you all to stay here so I can get your names and…”

Judy trailed off as the entire herd fled, leaving a mist of kicked up snow behind them.

“Bullies,” Nick spat out loud, as he wrapped his arms around the remaining reindeer. “Remember that they’re all cowards, kid…”

“No,” he sniffed back. Slowly standing up, he held his face in his muzzle and began to tremble. “They hate me because I’m a freak! A mutant freak who… who…”

He broke off as he started to cry, wailing painfully up into the sky.

“You’re not a freak,” Nick said, doing his best to comfort him. He hugged around the larger mammal’s leg and held it tight, even going as far to rub his cheek up and down it as he tried to muzzle. “Don’t let them ever make you believe that…”

“But… But… but it’s true…” he cried.

“It isn’t,” Judy said out loud. “You look like a fine young reindeer to me and…”

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY FREAK NOSE,” he shouted out, uncovering his face and showing off the birth mark that covered it. “I hate it! I hate it so much!” He grimaced and hit it hard with a hoof, before hitting again and again.

“Carrots!” Nick cried. “I need more paws over here, or else I might have to resort to preening…”

“Greater good or not, I’m not going to let you have to endure another talk from the chief about that,” Judy said, as she finally reached them. Looking up, she kicked out with her legs to bounce her up to face height, only for the snow crust to give way beneath her. Suddenly finding her lower half buried deep in the snow, she wiggled and crawled out, reaching Rudolf’s other leg and joining in Nick’s effort.

He was still crying.

Despite now being in stereo, the two mammals were too small to give the level of comforting that he required.

They still soldiered on though and, slowly but surely, he began to calm down.

“Hey, Rudolf,” Nick said slowly.

“Yes, officer?”

“Never let them see that they get to you. You understand that?”

“I think so…”

“Never let them see that they hurt you. However mean, however heartless, however cruel they are. Never let them see that it works.”

“But I’ve tried that!” he screamed. “Everyone says to ignore them! But it never works! And even if it did, I’m still a freak! A freak with no friends!”

Nick’s eyes widened, and he looked down. “It sucks,” he said reassuringly. “It sucks, and I know it sucks.”

“You… you do?”

“Bullies like that turned my childhood dream into my childhood nightmare,” Nick spat out. Rudolf slowly turned to look at him, and their eyes met. “They did it because I was a fox, and stupid stories told them I was sneaky and untrustworthy and dangerous. Now, I’ll admit that I may be cunning, and I can be sly, but I’m not untrustworthy and I’m not dangerous. I’m a good mammal. You’re a good mammal. They were not. Those other reindeer are not. Most importantly though, you are not a freak…”

The three stood there in the field of snow for a second or two, before Rudolf spoke. “But I still don’t have any friends.”

“Tell you what,” Nick said, standing up. “Come with us to the cruiser, we’ll give you a ride home, talk to your parents and try to help get you some new friends.”

“You will?”

“That’s what we do at the ZPD,” Judy said, smiling.

Together, they rose up and began walking out of the park, only to pause when Nick and Judy’s radios fizzled to life.

“All officers in Tundra town, near NoMe, report.”

“Wilde and Hopps, Ten-four in Balto park,” Judy replied.

“No good,” Clawhauser groaned. “We’ve got a size class M-2 truck that slid into a snowdrift off of ermine way. It…. OH-M-GOODNESS!”

“What?” Judy asked.

“It was carrying presents!” Clawhauser replied. “To a small mammal orphanage!”

“Is everyone okay?” Nick asked.

“Yes, but apparently the truck is sliding towards a river. By the time any other officer gets there, all the presents will be lost. Christmas will be ruined!”

“Listen Clawhauser.” Judy said. “We’ll save Christmas! We’ll find a way. It’s what we do in the ZPD!”

“I don’t remember it being in the job description,” Nick innocently commented, before his eyes widened. “A class M-2 truck, did you say?”

“Ten-four,” Clawhauser replied. “Too large for you two to move!”

“Well then,” Nick replied. “It’s a good think there’s currently three of us. Over and out Spots! Time to save Christmas!” He put his radio back, and looked up to Rudolf. “Want to be the hero?”

.

Five minutes later, not too far away, small tumbles of snow were rolling down a hill. They bounced and grew, before hitting a fast-flowing stream and dissolving into nothing. More tumbles and balls and avalanches began flowing and, not too far above, was their source. The truck, laying on its side, slowly sliding to oblivion. At the top of the slope, the marmot driver was looking down and crying, before the sound of approaching hooves woke him up. He turned, and saw a teenage reindeer with a red nose approaching, a rabbit on one shoulder and a fox on the other.

His eyes widened as the two smaller mammals jumped off and the larger one slid down the embankment. Below the lorry, he turned and raised his arms out, stopping its decent. Shifting slightly, he let it roll upright and, straining and groaning, picked it up. The three mammals looked on in awe as he brought it up to the top of the slope, before placing it down in front of them.

“One Christmas saved,” he said, grinning heavily.

Nick, barely holding back his joyous laughter, walked forwards. “Thanks to a very special reindeer, isn’t that right Rudolf!”

“Yeh…” he panted back, the strain of his heroism suddenly catching up to him.

“Now to just get this to the orphanage,” Judy said.

“No need,” the driver said. “We’re already there. Look behind you.”

That they did. Standing on the other side of the road was the building, a crowd of mammals ranging from weasel kits to dwarf sheep lambs looking up at Rudolf with wide eyes. Some were young, some older than him, but they all began cheering and celebrating. “RUDOLF! RUDOLF! RUDOLF!” they chanted.

Nick looked at Judy, and Judy at Nick, and both at Rudolf. “Me thinks you’ve just got a lot more friends than those bullies, don’t you think?” the fox said. Both he and Judy stepped back as they let Rudolf walk forwards into his crowd of fans. They clapped and cheered at him, and he smiled back the largest smile mammalianly possible.

On the other side of the road, Nick drew a finger across his lower eyelid and smiled back. “Judy,” he said.

“Yes?”

“That’s what we do at the ZPD…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed chapter one. That one was based on Rudolf, but from now on it'll be up to you lot to guess the songs the stories were based on. Starting off, this one should be super-easy. Feel free to make guesses in the comments, along with your reviews.

“Come on,” Judy sighed, as she led the hunching figure out of the back of the cruiser. Nick, opening his door and closing it behind him, walked around to help her.

“Let me help you with him,” he said, wrapping one arm under the figures other armpit.

“It’s really…” Judy began to say, only to cut off as she felt her charge collapse, half his weight onto her and half to Nick. She looked up at him, her nose even giving the odd twitch at the smug little barb that she just knew was coming…

“A piece of crud that we got drawn for the Christmas eve evening shift again?” He replied back, smiling as he watched Judy blush slightly and turn away. “Why, yes, it is carrots,” he continued. “Yes, it certainly is…”

Their paws crunched as they made their way through the thin crust of snow that blanketed the parking lot. A heavy winter storm had come from the northwest, cooling down even further as it passed through tundra-town before moving all that cold air over here. Even through their layers of warm clothing, both Nick and Judy felt the chill. The drunk they’d picked up must have been even worse and, bar a ZTN ticket to Sahara square, they both agreed that the drunk tank was the best place for him.

“Well, Bogo at least said that he’d give us that veto next year, just in case it happened again,” Judy commented.

“So, we can freeze our tails off singing in the choir instead,” Nick noted.

“Oh, don’t you pin that on me,” the bunny officer barbed. She smiled slightly, tilting her head up towards Nick as she teased him. “We all know you enjoy that…”

“Do I enjoy singing at this time of year?” the fox asked out loud.

“I think no…” came a third voice, slurred tired and haggard.

Judy turned to look at him as they entered the building. “Did he ask you your opinion?” she queried, pulling off his hood now that they were in the warmth.

The drunkard looked back. The fur on his round face was haggard and unkempt, long in some places and worryingly short in others. What might have once been distinct black stripes on his grey cheeks were now blurry and filled with white hairs, and his whiskers had grown out in a chaotic manner that all but disproved it being a fashion choice. “Yes…” he said, revealing the battleground of his mouth; the sight of only the bottom half of one bucktooth where there should be two making Judy shiver.

“Give him a break Carrots,” Nick said, as he tapped on the drunks’ head to get his attention. Two long ears stood alert, and he turned up and smiled.

“You have a pet name for her!” he said out loud, grinning widely. “Tha’s beautiful…”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly, and Judy could tell that he was using his hustlers mask to hold back his giggle. “I was going to ask you your name,” Nick replied, “and I still need it, but I’d also like to thank your for being the first member of my partners species to truly approve her nickname.”

“I’m… I’m not giving a name…” he mumbled, only to hear the sound of a bunny doe clearing her throat next to him. He turned to face her, and his eyes widened slightly as she saw the wallet she was holding.

“We’ll need to take this in, but you’ll get it back when you’re sobered up Mr Savage,” she said.

“Savage?” Nick asked, smiling. “That’s a pred name if ever I heard one. What name did this fine chap’s mom and pop decide to grace him with?”

“Jack,” Judy said back.

“Well then, Mr Jack Savage,” Nick announced. “I’d like to welcome you to Zootopia’s best free hotel!”

“Cool,” the drunk bunny muttered. “Don’t tell the police, but I’m so gonna steal every towel and bar of soap they got!”

This time Nick couldn’t hold back the grin, while Judy had long since cracked. The door to the drunk tank was just up ahead and they paused as they arrived. Mchorn, who was waiting there, opened it up and they slowly led Mr Savage in side.

“Hey… Carrots…” he slowly said.

Judy ignored him.

“Hold onto your fox!”

This time she didn’t, and she turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

“They’re special mammals,” he said, sniffing slightly. “Real special… and you don’t know how special they are until they’re gone.”

“Trust me,” Nick said, as he pushed him inside and watched the door close. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

Jack Savage looked back at Judy, tears beginning to drip from his eyes. “Hold him!” he shouted. “Love him! Kiss him! Don’t be mean or hurt him! And don’t be a dumb bunny like me!”

Judy gave one last glance to the drunk tank, before carrying on back to the cruiser with Nick.

.

.

“You know fluff,” Nick said slowly, as he looked out from the window of the cruiser. “We’ve seen Mr Savage before…”

Judy, pausing as they stopped at a red light, nodded in agreement. “Me to. Well, not personally. But…”

“He rings a bell, don’t you think?” Nick said back, before leaning forwards to grab one of the silver decorations hanging from the cars mirror.

Judy saw his outstretched fingers approaching the little bells and turned to face him. “Don’t!”

Nick paused mid-stretch, turning to face her, before his head began drifting slowly but inevitably back towards the bells, almost like the movement of a tectonic plate.

“Nick…” Judy sternly warned again.

His finger inched forwards a millimetre or so.

“Bad Fox!” she scolded.

Nick’s eyes turned to face her, and his eyebrows jumped up and down three times. His claws stretched out to touch it, only shoot backwards with his body as the light turned green, Judy flooring the accelerator.

“Dumb fox!”

Nick smiled back at her, rolling his eyes. “Sly bunny…”

“Anyway,” Judy continued, “the first time I saw him was a patrol at the train station. He just walked passed, and gawked as he saw the city. He was like me, a burrow kit moving to the promised land. I felt happy for him. Even more so the next time I saw him.”

“Christmas eve two years ago,” Nick said, smiling. “We were singing in the ZPD choir, you and I, my tail wrapped around you. You, enjoying its unparalleled comfort, fluffiness and insulating capabilities and…- certainly-not-twitching-your-nose-at-a-million-twitches-a-minute.”

…

“Dumb fox,” Judy said lightly, as she looked up to him. “However much you wind me up, you know I still love you.”

“Do I know that you love being wound up,” the dumb fox said back.

“That wasn’t…” Judy replied, before Nick cut her off.

“Going from your response, I say that needs more investigation,” he said.

…

“Anyway, we were in the park and I saw him off in the distance. Dancing and cheering, with this arctic fox vixen with him…”

“Arctic?” Nick asked incredulously.

Judy shrugged. “Well yeah, that’s what she was.”

Nick blinked a few times, before shaking his head. “Mistaking a swift fox for some other desert fox type, fennec’s excluded, I can kind of understand. But seriously? Arctic?”

“And what makes you think she wasn’t an arctic fox,” Judy asked back.

“She was yellow!” Nick barked out. Paws out in front of him, they shuffled up and down as he talked. “…And the last time I checked, when were arctic fox’s yellow? They’re white in the winter, and grey in summer, and don’t say it was a dye job because she was too large, especially in the ear department!”

“Oh…” Judy murmured back, “right…”

“You know,” Nick mused. “I bet you’re like him. Too drunk. You always go for gluhwein and honey mead when we sing in the choir don’t you?”

“The honey helps my throat,” Judy quietly said.

“I blame the mead for this,” Nick said. “The fact that you are going around thinking what is evidently a swift fox is an arctic fox, despite having the wrong colour and build, is all caused by the mead. Mead’s at fault for this. All this confusion can be traced back to Mead. I completely and unequivocally blame Mead!”

“I’ll lay off the drinks this year, then,” Judy muttered back in response to Nicks tirade.

“I saw him last year too,” he said after a quiet pause. “Him and his swift fox. They weren’t star crossed lovers, then were they?”

“No,” Judy said quietly. “I think they gave Bucky and Pronk a run for their money.”

“Which makes me only sorrier for the poor sonar technicians on submarines,” Nick quipped. “Already having to filter out motor-mouth and foghorn-pronghorn was bad enough!”

 “And at least Bucky and Pronk never go beyond ‘idiot’ or ‘moron’,” Judy pointed out. “If we tried to copy what these two were saying, we’d be before Bogo’s desk before you could say…”

“Scumbag, maggot, cheap lousy Faggot!” Nick said out loud, causing Judy to gasp.

“NICK!” she shouted, before stopping.

.

There was a silent pause.

.

Then the two mammals burst into laughter.

.

.

.

Three hours later and the shift was over. The two made their way to the city centre park, where the mammals of the nightshift were walking about. Midnight had already long since gone, but choirs still rang out. Church groups, music clubs, and the mammals of both the ZPD and the ZFD took their turns singing. Both Nick and Judy had their dress blues on, and joined the ranks and files who stood among the fairylights and falling snow. Carols were sung out, and bystanders came, watched and went.

Soon, other songs were coming on and, as they began the final performance of the night, Judy spotted him. Jack Savage, walking briskly forwards, towards the figure of a taller fox with sandy yellow fur. As Nick and Judy sung the first verse, they saw her turn to face him as he went down to his knees and pleaded. She shook her head and waved her paw, saying some words that Judy, even from afar, could see shatter Jack’s eyes. She turned to leave, only for Jack to get up and say something.

Judy looked on and sung. “ _Yet the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways, and they scorned us for being what we are…_ ”

The fox paused, before gently leaning forwards and giving Jack a light hug, patting his back and whispering in his ears.

_“But they might as well go chasing after moon beams, or light a penny candle from a star…”_

She gave him a gentle kiss on his head, before she stood up and walked away, while Jack just stayed there. Up straight, wiping tears from under his eyes, as the snow fell around them.

Judy carried on singing with Nick, finishing the final verse. The wolves in the choirs howled up to the sky, while Nick and Judy held hands. Judy smiled, and promised to herself that, however annoying he got, she’d never drive away the fox she loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote: Those who've read my other stories may remember a very notable character named Hester, who I named after the character of the same name from the mortal engines books.
> 
> Well, the trailer for the film has just launched on youtube. So, if you don't mind me, I'll just be popping off to rewatch it for the nth time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hmmm. Bit disappointed about the lack of guesses for the last chapter. Kudos to drummermax over on A03 for having a go, though it seems he was aiming in the direction of traditional carols (whereas these can be based off of any christmas songs). The song in question wasn't 'O Holy night', rather it was 'Fairytale of New York' by Kirsty MacColl and the Pogues. Some of the clues were:
> 
> \- Jack's dental state resembling that of Shane Macgowan's.
> 
> \- Jack being hauled into the drunk tank on christmas eve.
> 
> \- Jack lamenting his state, then the recounting his and Skye's first meeting and breakup, and then the final interaction all match the order of the verses in the song.
> 
> -Nick quoting Skye/Kirsty's 'Scumbag, maggot, cheap lousy faggot' line.
> 
> \- Finally, and my favourite, Nick and Judy in the ZPD choir singing galway bay, just like in the chorus.
> 
> .
> 
> Maybe now this will be easier. Maybe now, given the next song, it'll be harder. As this fic will be going into hibernation until next year, I'll answer all guesses over on A03. So, if you want a punt (and I encourage you to have a go), it'll be best to try there so I can reply to the comment.
> 
> .
> 
> I'd also like to pay tribute here to a certain Deviant-artist who inspired this Fic. Some of my readers may have picked up on the fact that I'd of loved to of done a massive fan-fic and art colab with Battouga-Sharingan. However, my messages never got a reply and I didn't want to create a whole series with lore and backstories for his world and his character without permission (and his artwork contribution was also critical). However, I still had an itch to write stuff based around that world. While this Fic includes lots of hints and stuff to my plot ideas, they're just that. Hints and stuff.
> 
> I consider this fan-fic for fanart. Battouga, if you're reading this, I hope you enjoy it as such and aren't offended by me using your character. 
> 
> And, of course, have a merry christmas and a happy new year.

The warm fire crackled and glowed, painting the room around it a cosy orange. Two hung stockings lay above the hearth, empty for the moment and flapping in the breeze. Above it, draped over the mantle top, lay trimmed bushels of holly and mistletoe. Above them, mounted on the wall, hung a yule wreath, green and host to hundreds of red berries.

The fire still burned, crackling logs scenting the air with the fresh pine smell.

Nearby, two noses took deep breaths of the sweet and sappy scent, letting it tickle down them. The figures’ fur, orange and red and maroon already, was painted more so by the glow, the colours made more intense like how salt brought out the flavour in food. 

“Still awake, little pal?” Nick asked softly.

The smaller figure laying on his lap stayed quiet, gently snoring as he was rocked back and forth. Nick smiled at the silence, though he did not act on it. His foot paw still pushed and relaxed; the chair they were on still rocked forwards and backwards.

“Good answer, little pal,” Nick gently said, before slowly opening his eyes. Looking down, the blur of his muzzle in the centre of his vision, he lingered on the head of the mammal sleeping on top of him.

Logs crackled and spat.

Fire flickered and even gave a little roar.

The small purple nose breathed in and out, and the odd snore came and went.

The snores were cute, and Nick couldn’t help but smile.

“And you want to know why it’s a good answer, Marcus?” he asked, finally stopping his rocking and planting his foot paws on the ground. Still cradling his son with his right paw, Nick pulled out his left one and slipped it over the warm green blanket that covered them both. Moving it down, he felt the kit’s small tail curl up, only to be blocked by the chair. Pulling his arm so it hooked into the back of Marcus’ knees, he began to sit up. His arm taking the weight, his other still holding the little fox’s head to his chest, he made sure that everything was good before standing up.

The green blanket was still draped over him, and he was still sleeping away obliviously.

“It’s a good answer, because Father Christmas won’t give you any presents if you’re still awake, no matter how good you were…”

Marcus gave a mutant snort-snore in response, and Nick guffawed. He had a smile on his face, up until he stepped forwards and felt a flash of pain down the ribs on his right-hand side.

“Gahhhhh!!!” he cursed, wincing as the dull throbbing slowly ebbed away. His eyes were welded closed, and a painful memory resurface. The cell, the guards who’d brought him in, the threats and the beatings… and what they said they’d do to Marcus if he didn’t sign that damned confession…

A phantom pain almost tingled on his neck, both from that day and when Judy had come in to check on him. When he’d been ready to tell her what they were trying to do, only for her to blurt out what had almost happened to him.

After that, he’d almost done himself a third time, trying to grab that pen to sign his non-existent guilt into the world.

Nick shook his head, and ran his fingers deeper in Marcus’ neck fur to remind him that that was all over. They’d won. There may not be peace on earth just yet, but a new year was coming. A year so much better. He didn’t want all the pain, anguish and sadness anymore; he wanted a clear path which he could walk down, the most important mammal in the world holding his paw.

A careful step forwards, and then another. The small cottage Judy had got her family to let him stay at was just that. A small cottage, with a large main room, a little kitchen and a bathroom on the ground floor, and two bedrooms up in the loft. Nick climbed the stairs, and heard the drumming of rain on the roof. Baby, it was cold outside and terribly wet to boot. Even Marcus, with his mother’s side in him, wouldn’t even think about going out in that weather.

Entering the smaller bedroom, the larger fox pulled the duvet down to the end of the bed and laid his kit down onto the freshly uncovered sheets. Already squirming, he curled himself up into a tight ball, tail swinging around to cover up his nose. Carefully tucking him in, Nick gave a gentle kiss and turned to leave.

“Dad…”

His ears pricked at the ever so sleepy voice, and he turned around again. Eyelids drooping, but still ever so slightly open, Marcus looked up, green eyes meeting green.

“Yes, little Pal?” Nick asked.

“Do you think it’ll snow for Christmas?”

Nick smiled back. “The radio said so, so I think it will. The temperature just needs to drop a little bit, and we’ll have plenty of snow. Once we’ve opened our presents, we’ll grab our food fresh from the oven and go up to eat with Judy and her family.”

“That sounds cool,” Marcus replied, before his mouth opened wide and he took in a deep, long yawn.

“Looks like someone needs to sleep,” Nick chuckled. “Remember, Father Christmas will only come if you’re fast asleep, however good you’ve been. Now, night pal.”

Nick turned to leave, only to pause mid-stride.

“How good have we been?”

Nick turned around, once again, and let one of his ears flop to the side in confusion. He put his paws on his hips and leant forwards. “Now what does that mean…”

Marcus looked at him, then down. “Didn’t we break the law…?”

“Look at your neck, look at my neck,” Nick said, smiling. “We didn’t break the law. The law was broken, and we helped fix it. Remember how many mammals were happy in Wild Times? Well, now every predator family can be just that happy all the time, and it’s all thanks to you, me, Judy, Finnick, Benny and Honey. I’m pretty sure that puts us near the top of the good list.”

“But what if you’re wrong,” Marcus mumbled. “I know you’re not a bad guy, but they put you in jail. What if Father Christmas saw that and thinks you’re super naughty?”

Nick looked away slightly, before his eyes flickered open with a plan. He stepped forwards and leant down, gently stroking Marcus’ head. “I made sure to call him,” he said, “and he said that he put us on the good list in big bold letters that he underlined a hundred times! That’s how good he thinks we are!”

Marcus smiled, before his ears dropped slightly. “What about all the prey mammals, does he think they’re naughty for… you know.”

Nick bit his lower lip and thought for a second, before answering. “He thinks that they were scared and worried, so unless they were super naughty they get a pass this year. But if they start acting like major jerks later on, then they’ll go onto the naughty list!”

“What about Grandpa? Isn’t he still in jail?”

Nick gulped at the reminder. The shock of finding him alive and well still rattled him, as did the news that they weren’t going to release him and the others straight away. Instead, after helping to save the day at the concert, rather than being turned savage and tearing it apart, he and the other ‘deceased’ unstable preds had been returned to the asylum. At least now the new test actually meant that no one was being kept inside ‘just to be safe’, and he’d finally get his dad back soon. He’d wanted him home for Christmas, but it seemed like they’d only finish ticking their stupid boxes by early January, right in time for the grand reopening of Wild times.

“Grandpa isn’t in jail,” Nick explained. “It’s an asylum, for mammals they think are a bit funny in the head.”

“But Grandpa isn’t, is he?”

“No,” Nick said. “And those scared prey mammals, as they’re learning not to be frightened again, will be letting him out soon. When we’re back with the others for new year’s, we can check in on him.” He sighed as the last thing came out. Somehow, his Dad had learnt about Judy’s offer and pushed him to take it. Honey, Clawhauser and Finnick were all celebrating the Christmases they’d never had with their birth families, and Grandpa said that Marcus being up with his new bunny friends would be a good idea. Still, the guilt was still there.

“Will it snow for Christmas, Dad?”

Nick chuckled, and leant down. “You already asked that one, little Pal. Everyone says it will, so fingers crossed. Now, before you ask, I’m going to go down and make sure the fire is safe, and that the mince pies and port are still ready for him. So, night-night.”

“Night…” Marcus said, before trailing off. Nick thought he heard a ‘dad’ in there, but it might have just been the rain. It was still pounding down, and only seeming to get heavier.

Walking out of Marcus’ room, he entered his own and pulled an old travel bag out from underneath it. Tiptoeing back out, he went down the stairs and across to the tree. Presents already lay there, from the friends he had in lieu of family. They were quickly joined by new ones, as Nick pulled them out and placed them carefully underneath. Other presents were gingerly placed in the stockings, Nick making sure that the small chocolate treats that were safe for them weren’t among them, lest they melt. Leaning down to the food and drink on the floor, two mince pies were eaten up and a thin crust left of the third. Finally, pinching his nose, Nick downed the port in one go, gagging at its punch.

“Eurghhh….” He groaned, coughing slightly. “Father Christmas,” he muttered, “I know it’s cold out there, but couldn’t you settle for regular wine. I enjoy that stuff…”

He calmed his musings as he reached over and picked up an old fire blanket, draping it over the burning logs. Then came a spit guard, dragged and clamped tight across the open fire place. Nick took a step back, before walking up the stairs. Into his bedroom, and lying on his bed, he grabbed a book and began reading. It calmed his mind, which would otherwise be too excited for sleep. Last Christmas, being where he was now would be a gift that he’d say needed godly powers of magic to create. As it turned out, all it needed was a very special bunny who, after fifteen years, reappeared in his life but a few days later. He told her to leave him alone there, but later she came back.

Now he never wanted her gone again.

The rain was still hammering down. He hoped it would turn to snow.

He was happy to remember it now. Back then. Before it all went wrong…

How he and Judy had wrapped up warm, tight scarves and ear warmers on them, and had gone out carol singing. It had been so white and beautiful then…

Nick sighed, as he put away his book and closed his eyes.

Sleep came quickly.

.

.

A final soft ring of a bell woke Marcus up. Eyes flickering, the soft light of the dawn coming through his window, he stirred slowly. Arms stretched out and his mouth opened into a wide and rolling yawn. Paws made their way to his eyelids, and were rubbing the sleep from them when he paused.

A few seconds passed, before he jolted up and screamed out. “IT’S CHRISTMAS!!!!!”

Jumping out of bed, he felt the chill hit him, though it quickly went as his thick winter fur ruffled up. Jumping up and down, paws held to his chest in excitement, he felt the happiness flow through him like never before. He loved it. He adored it. And it was all thanks to the greatest mammal in the entire work.

“…Yes it is, Pal,” he said, slowly stepping out of his room.

Marcus jumped forwards, grabbing his dad around his waste and hugging him tight. He flinched down as a soft lick was dragged across the crown of his head, before giggling.

“Shall we go downstairs?”

“YES!” he cried, quickly grabbing his Wild Times cap and putting it on his head, all while hopping up down in front of Nick. The smell of pine needles filled the room and, looking forward to the tinsel wrapped tree, he set his eyes on the stack of waiting presents. “HE CAME! FATHER CHRISTMAS CAME!”

“He did little Pal!” Nick said back. “Though I think you’ll want to open the big green and white pressie first. I’ll be getting the fire going, get this place nice and warm again.”

Marcus walked towards it, turning to gasp at the eaten food and drink as he passed, before approaching the bulbous beanbag like present. He grabbed the little tag on it, and saw the words _‘To Marcus, Love Dad’_ , written out in his father’s handwriting. Digging into it with the three claws on his right paw, he tore it open with his other and gasped at what was inside.

“Do you like it, little Pal?” Nick asked, as he touched a stack of old newspapers with a lit match and slowly watched them burn.

“It’s brilliant!” Marcus shouted back, as he pulled on the large dressing gown. While green was, and always would be, his favourite colour, he liked others too. Red scarves were awesome, while he’d also started liking a white and black jacket decorated with a heart and crown symbol. The dressing gown, which was already making him feel toasty warm, was green and covered with the red patterns. “Thanks for making this Dad!”

“My pleasure,” Nick said in a silly accent, sending a wiggle down his spine as he did so.

Marcus turned back to the tree, and set his eyes on another present. Leaning forwards, past the glitter of tinsel and the odd hanging branch, he pulled out a small one. Reading the label, he smiled as it said, ‘ _To a very special little Fox, from Father Christmas.’_ He pulled it out and started to open it, before pausing. He opened the label and read it again, his head tilting over in confusion. He went over to the previous present tag, and read it.

He remembered back to the many things Judy had taught him about her detective work. The techniques used. Handwriting analysis…

He looked at the one from Father Christmas, and then to the one from his father.

Then back the other way.

Then back and forth, over and over and…

“Everything okay little Pal?”

“Sure!” Marcus said back. “I just want to get something from my room…”

“Well, by the time you come back I’ll have this fire going,” Nick said. “So we can open our presents together…”

“Cool,” Marcus replied, before darting up the stairs and running into his room. Closing the doors, he looked from one tag to the other and back again, confirming his terrible suspicions.

His lips trembled, and he stumbled over onto the bed, collapsing onto it as he sniffled. His ears rose, and he heard the drumming of rain on the ceiling, as it still hammered down.

An odd tear of grief trickled down from his eye, as he shuffled into his bed and held his legs up to him tight.

.

A quick glance up, and he spotted his Wild Times hat lying in front of him.

.

He looked down at the dressing gown he was wearing.

.

He felt the fur on his neck and smiled.

.

Slowly unwrapping the present, he saw a box of his favourite candied mealworms, and couldn’t help but give a big wide toothy grin.

.

Stepping up out of bed, he reached down and picked up a small wrapped gift from his bag. He walked out of his room smiling and hopped down the stairs, his grin getting larger as he saw the now roaring fire and, standing by it, the greatest mammal in the whole world.

“What did you get little Pal?” Nick asked, smiling.

Marcus smiled even wider. “Something for the one mammal so cool, he makes Father Christmas look like… look like…” He shook his head, before stepping forward and presenting Nick with the gift. The older Fox’s eyes went wide, as he ever so slowly took the present from his son. “Wow…” he said in an amazed whisper, before looking up with a tear in his eye. He carefully undid the messy wrapping with his claws, and a paw went to his heart when he saw the tie, black with ‘ _Greatest Dad ever’_ written all over it.

Nick looked up and sniffed. “Thank-you Marcus… It’s brilliant.”

“Just like you!” Marcus said, as he, a true believer, ran forwards and gave Father Christmas the giant hug he always deserved.

.

.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors notes: To quote C3PO, here we go again!
> 
> As Drummermax64 correctly guessed, the song in the last fic was ‘I Believe in Father Christmas’ by Greg Lake. As for this year though, I have a few things planned. I’ve also opened this whole story up for colabs over on Cimar’s discord. What does that mean? Well, if anyone else has a song/story they want to do, they can include it in this!
> 
> Anyway, on with the show!
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> Side note about this chapter: Not too long ago, NicolasWilde retired from the fandom. Her creation, the Zistopia comic, was what brought me into all this. It might apply to many of you guys and girls as well. As a parting gift, she gave a bare bones overview of the ending. It’s the final post on her tumblr. This story sort of bases itself off of it (so catching up is advisable). There are ‘word of god’ canon breaks, though technically no ‘true’ canon breaks (although something like this would completely break the tone and themes in the comic).
> 
> .

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 4**

**.**

**.**

In the city of Lionden, in the bar of a fine hotel, a voice with an Irish accent rung out across the room.

“I don’t feckin’ believe this…”

“Don’t believe what, Bob?”

Throwing his paper over, the mammal huffed before sitting up. His little feet carried him over to the edge of the rodent sized part of the hotel bar and restaurant and he leant upon the gilded golden handrail, looking at as larger mammals walked about. Servers were carrying drinks and food, dealing with the tail end of the breakfast order. He’d had a nice cup of tea so far, but they’d only just ordered their food.

They’d all woken up late.

It had been a long concert the night before, a final exhausting blowout of the worldwide tour he’d been going on. The plan was to stay here, in the Lambham hotel for a few days, before giving the band a break. Maybe going back to the studio in the new year or something. He wasn’t quite sure yet.

“Urghh, I see what you mean…” Turning around, Bob looked over at his bandmate with the paper. The black rat held it out, before shuffling it up and filing it away. “You’ll never be free of idiot mammals who want to start wars.”

“I know that,” Bob grunted. The brown rat walked back over and sat down. Maybe some tea would calm him. Maybe it wouldn’t. He just sat on his chair and held his arms out, exasperating what he’d just seen. “-But here’s a guy who’s going up to parliament, asking them to invade HIS country!” he exclaimed. He paused, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Even called it a present for his people for Christmas… War. A present! An invasion, death, chaos… -Puts you in the Christmas cheer, doesn’t it!?” He turned away, mumbling some choice profanities under his breath.

“Shut up about Christmas!” Another bandmate heckled over. “Leave that stuff ‘till December!”

“Sure,” Bob muttered, shaking his head. He frowned though as he though back. “He was even saying that he’d like it if the Fanglish took over them as a colony. If they ruled us…” he muttered, still a bit lost. He frowned though, shaking his head. “But you know what? I say no! I don’t want to see ‘our neighbours’ go to war with some little secluded city state halfway around the world! Do you!?”

“No,” his bandmates all said in unison.

“Good,” he noted, before frowning. “The Fanglish PM’s already had one war, and I don’t want another happening! Don’t want her to get too fond of them, do we?”

One of his bandmates chuckled and he nodded. A lemming waiter came, bringing a fine selection of toasted seeds for them to eat. They still had a long while left at the hotel, one they needed after wearing out their voices and making their claws bleed from the guitar playing. But he felt that he could do something smaller and easier, but very much necessary, in the near future. He didn’t want an idiot encouraging people to go to war, murdering children and so on. He had an idea forming in his head and, later that afternoon, he sat himself down by an old type writer. Flexing his fingers, he got to work.

.

It was a few days later, after finally catching the quick flight back over the Eweish Sea and returning home, that he got a short letter. Sent by the very same mammal he’d read about in the paper. Bob had certainly not held back about him, decrying the very idea of war or violence, but the letter was short, polite and asked a simple thing. Could this mammal talk to him? Change him around to his point of view? Bob certainly wasn’t in a good mood, and didn’t really want to listen to this mammal, but he thought that it might give him a, admittedly very slim, chance of making this erstwhile warmonger see some sense in everything. So he told his secretary to invite this person over. He also asked her to do the one other request in the letter. To buy this mammal’s book, so that he could read it first.

Later that night, a meeting was set. Later that night, Bob sat down and looked at the little paperback in his hand. _‘The Devil with Goat’s Horns: the experiences of a predator in Zootopia.’_ Bob looked at the little title and almost scoffed, only to pause as he saw a banner below. _‘Winner of the Nobel prize in literature’_.

“Okay…” he noted, the rat run his claws through his wild mop of hair, before opening up the pages and starting to read. His eyes slowly widened as page after page past. He felt pain and sorrow and, on a few occasions, tears dripped from his eyes. He slept little and red more and, eventually, he came to the end.

The cover was closed.

The text slid across the table.

He stood up and just walked. Just tried to process what he’d experienced. Just tried to…

He still felt numb the next day, when there was a knock at the door. Two sniffers, a boar and a wolf, came in first, claiming they were from Mammal Intelligence Six. There’d been attempts made before and they had to be sure. He let them do their thing. Not long after an armoured car pulled up close to the entrance. The security mammals scanned around, handwaves were given, and a lone figure exited. He walked into the rat’s medium mammal wing. Being well endowed, there was no reason to not have the facilities to host those larger than oneself. Given the trade he was in, it was often required, given the need for communication or collaboration. Exiting out onto a modified table he sat down, looking at the ground. He didn’t want to look up.

“So…” a voice said. There was a pride, a majesty to it, but it was tinged with a terrible sadness. “Have you read my book?”

Bob sighed, before nodding. “Yes,” he replied, before looking up. “And while I think any war is a stupid and terrible idea, I… -I want to say sorry, you know, for… -well, some of the more flippant things I may have called you.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I…” he began, before frowning. “-You’re also a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Am I?”

“You did that there to feckin’ guilt me there, didn’t ya?”

“Maybe…?”

Bob sniggered and looked up, his eyes meeting the amber ones looking down. They seemed warm, and there was a feeling of warmth from them. A glint of mischief even. But… -But that sadness remained. It couldn’t be taken away. After reading that book, he knew why.

“Listen…” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I need to…” he began, before trailing off. He shook his head, clutching his hair as he did so. Hitting down out of frustration, he let out a huff and chewed his lip a little. His thoughts and feelings hit this way and that. His emotions were going up and down. His foundation had been torn from him and he didn’t know where to stand. In the end, he just grunted. “Just tell me about yourself…” he muttered.

“I thought you read the…”

“-Yes,” he butted in. “But tell me again, okay?”

Looking down at the rat, the larger mammal nodded slowly. His fur colours were deep and lined with the first few silver hairs. His build was thick, giving off a feeling of strength, though the odd tremble here or there seemed to take all that away. If you looked closely, you could see the odd scar here or there. A missing claw or a thin line cut through the fur. Hidden by his trousers, there were areas where the covering was patchy, white skin mottling up through. Areas that had healed over but not fully, even after all these years. Were you to feel beneath his fur, you’d be able to feel the tension and the rough lines from when the worst of it happened. He opened his mouth to speak, showing off where some of his teeth had been knocked or pulled out. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bob said, almost snapping back. “Give me John Wilde, uncut.”

“Very well,” the fox said, nodding. “If that’s what you wish.”

.

.

“-And that’s when I met him,” he was saying. He looked out into the far distance, trembling as he closed his eyes. Shaking as he remembered that night. “If there were a devil, I’d say I saw him then. Then and there, as he came to me and said that he empathised. I… -Well, he said that ‘his research’ suggested that safety measures needed to be taken. That something had to be there.” His voice went hollow, cracking slightly, and he closed his eyes and shuddered. It seemed colder, and he felt a phantom tightness around his wrists and neck. “He…” -he shook his head and carried on, however hard it felt. “I was in no place to argue, was I?” he said sadly. “I just told him about what I’d seen… The woman and children murdered by his safety device. Our culture wiped out. Our species’ set for extinction, and… -even things like being unable to safely take a shower or a bath or…”

…

There was a breath in.

A breath out.

“He knew about my collar fixing, and how I saved a mother and her cub. He promised that he was working on a fix. I’d been thrown in solitary, no visitation, for life and… -One year. One year until I could see my family again, and I could help make a ‘ _better_ ’ collar for all the preds. A safe one… What else could I do but sign on that dotted line.”

A tear went down from his eye, and he looked at the rat.

“What else could I do, but sign my soul away?”

.

.

“I got there, and the beatings began. The spraying with water, to set it off you see. I was taken into this old… -it was a factory of some kind, might have been one of his old ones. I was dragged in, and locked to a chair, and they attached wires to me and he and his daughter came and… and…”

…

“Calibration,” they called it. He said so in almost a whisper. “Calibration. They needed to do a lot of it.”

…

“I knew he was lying. He knew I knew. So, he kept it up. I’d beg and beg, and he’d give me that grin but carry on and I… -I then realised that he planned to have me die before that one year was up,” he noted. “I was on borrowed time, but he planned to make the most of it. Do you… do you know why I never believed him, when he said that they were the new Predators?” he asked. “The new top of the food chain?”

“Because am ancient predator kills for food, to survive,” Bob noted. He was just staring at the floor, solemnly.

“He was torturing me for fun,” John whispered hoarsely. “To punish me for standing up to his plan. To his… -to his genocide of my people. I spited the devil, and I became his play thing. He developed the first mark-two and put it on me, boasting about it being a Christmas present for all the predators. Said they wouldn’t have got it if it weren’t for me…”

There was a shiver, his fur all standing up.

“It was a twitchy buggy nightmare, and everyone knew it. It got cold in my cell and I caught a cold, and ever other sneeze would send me screaming to the floor. In the end I had to learn to shutdown my emotions. I needed to, given that there was a chance that I might escape.”

The last word was tinged with a little sliver of hope.

“I’d been through hell. I’d seen mammals turned savage by those… by those rage collars of his. I never truly knew about them until I went to the Purussian war museum. Every mammal there knows about them, but over in Zootopia they kept that a secret from us. They… -Just like a lot of things really. But having one of those things on was worse, you know?”

“How so?”

John sighed. “It transformed you into a beast. You’d be terrified of it beforehand, you’d get lost in the rage, and… -and then you’d wake up, and you’d see the horror… -the horror of what you could do.” He trailed off, silent for a few seconds. A tear tracked down from his eye. “Goetz always promised though that the last experiment… The last one before he would let me go, would be fitting an uncalibrated collar to me…” he trailed off, looking over to Bob. “One set for a mammal with a much lower heartbeat. He planned to make me die screaming before it was my time to get out.”

“And you weren’t going to let that happen.”

“No,” he said, his voice changing slightly. There was a hint of hope. Even pride. “His torture chambers were in an old factory and were very rough and ready. But as it wasn’t designed to be a jail, it had faults. Big ones. I was kept in what must have been a medium mammal bathroom. Couldn’t flush myself down the toilet, you see,” he said, chuckling a little. “But there was a little window out onto this open airshaft, or lightwell, I don’t know the real name. I’m guessing plenty of toilets backed onto it. I had a spoon, got it early on. Hid it and, when they didn’t find it, I started chipping away at the mortar… -Bonus of having such a thin wall.”

“And you did that for months.”

“I kept it up,” he said. “When I could. Terrified they’d find me out. I could see the days going on, and my time getting nearer. Then, one day, he threw me in and said he’d be away for a week or so. Wouldn’t be able to cook my food!” There was even a laugh managed, but it was followed by a deep shaking of his head. “That usually meant he’d try to starve me, just for a little kick when he came back. But it gave me time. I made ropes of my sheets, and I got a good few chunks of those bricks out, and then I placed that spoon beneath my collar to short out the shockers and began climbing…”

…

“Factory,” he noted. “Very poor to guard. Very dark, too. I guess he was planning to hide his evil actions in plain sight. I used my night vision to guide me along, and I managed to leap into the undergrowth and get away.”

“To get back to your family?”

John shivered and looked away sadly. Grief was stricken across his face. “It felt impossible to get across the city in the state I was in, but I wanted to… -I wanted to see them again.” He closed his eyes and began to sniff, and a tear and then a second one flowed down him. “I still miss them. They’re still stuck in there, suffering. But I saw that empty grain train idling in the yard, ready to head north to Canidaea. A few would go every day, passing by the happytown rail yards, and I jumped in… I jumped in.”

“You escaped,” Bob said.

“I escaped,” he said back, parroting the rat in a hoarse voice. “I escaped. I was given sanctuary. Zootopia had locked itself away from the world, and even if you were a prey mammal it’s hard to get in and out. For a pred, you’re still banned from the outer areas, and with permits and I.D. rules they made it next to impossible to get out.” He paused, looking over. “There are still those though. Up to a thousand a year, who make the escape like me. I heard it’s too expensive to stop and search all the trains, so plenty still catch a ride.” There was a pause as he gathered himself up. “I did all I could to ring the alarm. I got my book out. I won a Nobel prize for it. But no-one was interested in stopping the horror.”

“There’s the embargo,” Bob interrupted. “And the pressure.”

“That won’t save them,” John said, a hint of anger in his voice. “That won’t set them free. That won’t… -Only someone coming in and saving them will.”

“Which is why you go around, asking mammals to invade your country,” the rat said, his voice neutral.

“It’s the only way to end it,” he stated.

“No, it’s not…”

“-Yes, it is!” the fox growled out. “I live there. I talk to the escapees. I know the kind of surveillance and censorship and corruption that they use!”

“But war isn’t the answer!” the rat exclaimed again. “They’d probably like a war! Get to sell tons of arms! Or medicines after! Or…”

“Not if they’re defeated,” John said out loud, and his paws gripped his chair tight. “Not if we blast them into oblivion!”

“And how many innocents will die in all that, huh? How many more innocent lives cut short?”

“Less than the number of preds if this carries on,” John stated firmly. “Because they’ll make this carry on and on…”

“-And you want to start a war,” the rat pointed out coldly.

John looked at him and shook his head. “We had a war declared upon us. It was declared twenty years ago and no one came to help. No-one!” He stood up, shaking his head. “I like the idea of there being no war and world peace,” he noted, as he began to tremble. “But I hate how you all live in freedom, while my people suffer!” he spat, an accusing finger thrusted forward. “I hate how you can end this, but don’t!”

“We don’t want orphaned children, widows and parents who’ve lost their sons,” Bob said defiantly.

John harrumphed slightly. “Me neither…” he turned to walk away but paused mid-step. Trembling, his fists clenching, he turned around and walked up to Bob, staring down at him. “One… -One month ago, I got some news. Out of Zootopia, you see… Lots of news! There was this… -this underground predator theme park! Running and running, and removing collars and giving predators a little flavour of what a normal life could be like! Do you know who was running it?”

“No.”

“MY SON!” John screamed, before shaking his head. “My brave, fantastic boy. My Slick Nick, and he did something wonderful!” His mouth hung, trembling. He’d shot the last word out with pride, but it was breaking down. His voice cracked, and the tears began to come out, and his body shook. “But then… - _but then_ , there was an accident! The place was shut! He was thrown in jail! Just! Like! Me!”

The rat’s eyes widened as the fox broke down into hysterics and he stood up, trying to think of something to say. Something he could do.

He couldn’t.

“He might be met by that evil’s daughter again,” he cried. “Or he’ll spend the rest of his life locked up. He… -he used to love Christmas, you know. But he’ll be spending this one, and every other one, in jail! Locked up! Imprisoned, for being a hero! -And my wife! My dear wife, she… -she… -She’ll be alone, all alone!”

The fox’s voice trailed off and he just cried into his paw. By the time he recovered, he looked over and shrugged. “So,” he hissed, wiping his face down with his paw. “I’m so very sorry that I want a war to free my people,” he said, breathing in and out.

“-And I’m sorry that life’s so screwed up that you ended up thinking that way,” the rat replied sadly. It was an apology that he meant absolutely sincerely.

John got it and nodded, before walking out.

Bob was left alone, but with a burning rage inside of him. Everyone knew the basics of that place. The details though… He needed to find out more. Much more.

.

Instead of spending his newly free time to relax, Bob found himself jetting over to the areas surrounding the reclusive city state. He’d always known the place to be a black sheep on the international stage, pretty much everyone knew the basics of what went on there. But it had been filtered and forgotten, just a thing that existed in this world. Bar a variety of blockades, not much was really done against them and, as far as he was aware, not much could be done. That still didn’t mean that the mammals around it did their best. He found courageous but barely funded patrols led by predators, walking this way and that close to the border wall, all ready to accept any escapees. He found rusted speakers, transmitters, even balloon launchers for propaganda leaflets. Volunteers and eccentrics would man them, trying to get their messages across. They’d bring the scraps of their pay checks and plug them in, trying to get a pitiful word across. To tell those on the other side that a better world existed. Most of their time though was spent repairing the equipment.

He found smugglers and even the odd tunneller. A few contacts, and he even managed to find one small crew of volunteers who’d built their own submarine. They connected to the underground railroad on the Zootopian side and helped bring the escaping preds across the last little stretch to freedom.

“There are many who don’t make it, though,” their captain, a tough sea otter noted.

“I can guess,” Bob said, as he quietly walked into their base of operations. The shack was leaking water, the floorboards were rotting, and it creaked and groaned in the wind. A chill wind was coming in, and flecks of snow were seeping through a broken window. Every part of this trip had been sobering, seeing the volunteers trying to help but always being held back.

“Many mammals like me try and swim it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s why those monsters made it so that they shock and zap when they get wet… -That stops many, even before a patrol boat finds them.”

“What about the trains?”

“Tchhhh…” he noted. “The big cargo ones stopped with the embargo. We get the occasional pred hitching on a passenger one, usually something like an ermine riding beneath.” He paused, shaking his head and walking over to a board. “We do have some good stories though!”

“Like what?” Bob asked, interested.

The Otter smiled, pointing at a cork board, his claw resting on a picture of three wolves. “The Biteke brothers,” he noted, chuckling. “The first, Ingo, grabbed an air mattress and paddled across a shallow bit of water at night. The second, Holger, fired a zip-line arrow into the Canidaean embassy, bypassing the Zootopian ‘internal border security’ guards, and walked out claiming to be embassy staff!” He paused, chuckling at the third. “As for Egbert, the other brothers got a microlite or two, landed on a beach, and flew him back over!”

Bob smiled in awe.

“We also got a family of Caracals, and a family of Civets, who made their own hot air balloon!”

“Pull me the other one!”

The otter looked at the rat with a sly grin on his face. “Did I mention that they got over on hot air balloon number two!”

The rat was left speechless. As it turned out though, that was the highlight of the tour. He soon found himself at a volunteer shelter, helping those who’d managed to get across. Using an abandoned army base, the whole thing seemed to be losing a battle against nature. Those houses that were liveable were overcrowded and cold, their heating failing against the oncoming winter. Inside he found shattered mammals, many still having a dreadful worn patch around their necks. The scars still stood out, even if the mammals were free now. He’d see them break down or explode into a rage and then freeze back in horror, struggling to keep control of their newly reclaimed emotions. A simple talk or a wrong mention to one of them and they could collapse into hysterics, unable to cope. These weren’t ‘tamed’ mammals, they were broken. Shattered. Ruined. Trying to piece themselves together.

But…

He found himself with a small family of pine martens. They’d come across, smuggled in a special compartment hidden beneath the engine of a larger vehicle. Most escapees came out that way. He could tell, given how few larger predators there were here. They were cold, penniless, separated from all they loved bar each other. But, it seemed that that was enough. He watched as they brought in a scraggly fir tree sapling from outside, decorating it with decorations made from paper cut outs. The younger child and the older one, a teen, giggled and laughed, pure joy in their eyes. Their parents watched on, enraptured in the display.

“We never really did Christmas,” the father said. “I don’t think any Pred did.”

“Every one of us had one thing we’d want, but could never get,” his wife said sadly. She looked down and sniffed. “You’d see Prey mammals enjoying life at it’s finest, and for us it would just be another miserable year.”

“We always thought that this year would be different,” her husband added, a hint of melancholy in his voice. “This fox, Nick Wilde, opened a collar free themepark…”

Bob’s eyes widened, but he let the pine marten carry on.

“-And we heard that he was always planning the best Christmas party ever, but…”

“There was an accident,” Bob interrupted. “He was arrested and given life.”

…

“How… -how did you…”

“I met his father,” Bob replied. “John Wilde, he…”

“ _THE_ John Wilde?” the wife interrupted, shocked. Her husband was just the same. “I thought he was dead until I got out, and you… -and you met him!”

“It’s why I’m here really,” the rat replied, shrugging. He closed his eyes, breathed in, and breathed out again. “I didn’t know who he was, but I heard about him in the news. Campaigning for an invasion of Zootopia. To liberate the Preds and I, not understanding the context, wrote something pretty bleedin’ nasty in response, you get me?”

They nodded.

Bob paused, sighing. “He read that and chose to meet me, asking if I could read his book before hand. I… -I didn’t know anything. So many of us don’t. So that’s why I’m here, to find out. To learn… To…”

He broke off, grabbing his nose tight with his claws. “Ah’… -it… It’s just too feckin’ messed up!” he snapped. “’And there’s nothing I feel I can do! Nothing!”

There was a pause, one of the mustelids looking towards the other, before they went forwards and held his paw. “I heard you were… famous?” One of them asked.

There was a chuckle. “Yeah. Maybe I am?”

There was a bit of a scurrying and finding and out came an album of photographs. Bob opened it and winced, the pictures of suffering men, women and children throwing salt into the wound.

“Tell the world,” one of them said. “Tell them.”

“And tell us too,” the other replied. There was a pause, before a chuckle. “Do you know why we had faith in escaping? Do you know how we knew that the outside world would be okay?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Jiggy chomper.”

The rat blinked in shocks. “Isn’t that a…!”

“It is,” one of them replied with a chuckle. “But it’s printed by this ex-Zootopian fox who got out as soon as the collars were announced. He left with his girlfriend or something. He’s so hated by the Zootopian leaders, they sent a hitman after him but only got his tail. Heck, he’s backed up by the Canidaean government!”

“But… why?”

“Because we see the pictures of Pred and Prey getting on in… -well, certainly more than harmony,” the husband chuckled. “We can see that there’s a whole world of possibilities out there. More importantly, though, it is made for us! It’s something made with us in mind, and it gets through. That’s the most important thing. It gets through, and it tells us that there’s those on the outside who are looking in.”

Bob took it all in and nodded. A righteous rage had been burning in him. A fury to try and do something, try and make it right. Now though, hearing about all these trials and tribulations. Seeing what was going on, and how little acts could have such a big meaning. Even witnessing how those fighting for good soldiered on with so little support…

He had a plan.

He had an idea.

It would probably flop and flail and be a footnote in history. But if he was able to help fund one more predator escape, if he was able to keep the refugees just a bit warmer, if he was able to get a message of hope to just one of the wretches inside… Damn it, he was going to do it.

.

.

Soon, back in Lionden, he was busy sending out letters. He sent calls. Soon he was with another singer from a different group. Madge Purr had seen the images and was spurred into action. Pulling out a planned song that he’d got on the backburner, they worked together to pen the lyrics. Soon many responders were calling in. Some of the biggest names in the business were getting together. Things gained momentum. A date was booked. Bob watched it all come together and was joined by a familiar face in the recording room.

“I hope you don’t think this isn’t an insult or something… I hope…”

“No,” John said, looking down. “If it helps just one bit… If even a few copies get snuck through…”

“You know,” Bob replied, chuckling. “I told myself the same thing.

“Is this the start of a beautiful friendship?”

“I believe it is,” the rat said, nodding. He paused though, watching as three rather spaced out rockers arrived. “-And here come the usual suspects. Been rocking all over the world, you lot?”

The lead one, a lion whose mane came down in a rather messy blonde mop, just held a claw up and groaned. “I warned you we’d be…”

“We’ll find a use for you, Purrfitt,” Bob said, waving him on. _“Even if it’s just the wine and the white stuff.”_

“Aren’t those supposed to be our headliners?” John asked, a bit worried.

“We’ll try them, but may have to substitute,” the rat noted. “Though I’m not sure how they’ll react to that.”

“Hmmm, why’s that?”

“They tend to like the existing state of affairs, particularly in regard to social or political issues,” he mused.

“…Oh, okay then…”

There was more wrangling to do after that as well, Bob finding himself on the phone to the other side of the Atlantic. “-Listen, David Joey can’t make it! So get over here now…”

…

“You can make it in fix or six. The Fanglish and he Furench and the millions they spent made sure of it. Just get over here!”

…

Bob nodded his head and put the phone down. “Right, that’s him sorted!” he said, before turning to see a Llama arriving. “Llono, good to see ya! And Simon LeBun! Get to your stations!”

By the end of the night most of the parts were recorded. John turned up at the airport and, his ears pricking up as he heard the screaming howl in the distance, he watched as a sleek white dart of a plane, albeit one with a droopy nose, roared down onto the tarmac. He picked up the final member and took him to the studios. He watched them record the last piece. Film crews had captured it all, and there was a great crowd outside. Journalists. The press. Fans. They didn’t really pay him much mind. He went to bed that night, hoping that it would all come to something, at least.

.

.

A flicker of a projector came on and, against the viewing screen, they all saw a newspaper open. It was silent, fading out, until Bob appeared, walking in a crowd past the camera. John held his breath as a slight humming started, before the first ring of a tubular bell rang out. A deep windy base track was laid down, the rings piercing through and calling out, and it faded to show a small cat appear, standing by a microphone. He breathed in, before singing out. “ _It’s Christmas time, there’s no need to be afraid… At Christmas time… we let in light, and we banish shade…”_

He faded out, and in came the man (though he looked like a she here) who they’d picked up late the night before. The ram, with no horns and a dyed red head poof that was curled back, breathed in and sung out. “ _And in our world of liberty, we can all smile with joy… Throw you paws around the world, at Christmas time_!”

There was a sudden strike from the drums, shown on camera, and the tempo built up. A new guitar base hit in and a new singer appeared. A cypriot mouflon, his great horns sweeping back but his head fur coming out in wavy hair, took over. His voice strained as he put his heart into the song. “ _But say a prayer… Pray for the other ones. At Christmas time, it’s hard…”_

Offscreen, he was joined by a bunny singer. Their voices melded together. “ _-But when you’re having fun….. there’s a world outside your window…”_ Finally, the bunny appeared, with the mouflon. Their voices pushed harder as they performed the last line. _“And it’s a world of agony…”_

_“Where a simple snowflake melting…”_ a platypus, holding his lines in front of him, sung. _“-means a sting of electricity.”_

The Llama from earlier joined the platypus in, alongside a third mammal, and their voices joined with each other’s. _“And the Christmas bells that ring there,”_ they went, as three bell chimes went on. They carried on with the next line, as they went back down again. _“-could mean a ‘fixing’ jolt is due…”_

It cut to the Llama, and his voice strained hard as he screamed it all out. “ _Well tonight thank God it’s them, Insteeeeaaaaad of you…!”_

There was a flurry of drumming, and the tempo picked up some more. The sheep from earlier, and some others, joined in. “ _And there won’t be joy in Happytown this Christmas time. The greatest gift they’ll get is some less pain… Where feelings aren’t allowed… No shouts of joy around… Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?_ ”

They let go at a tempo, an angelic choir appearing in the background. The sheep warbled slightly, before the music cut out and two new musicians cut in. “ _Here’s to you…”_

The cat from the start took over. “ _Raise a glass and holler…_ ”

The pair took their turn. “ _Here’s to them…”_

“ _Beneath those burning collars!”_ the cat carried on, before the three of them sung out together. _“Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?”_

The choir came in, and pictures of all the artist arriving was shown again. They waved and walked towards the studio with purpose, as the base line and the drums beat out. Bells rung, and all the singers were shown, joined together in a choir group. They danced and joked and talked, before coming together for the chorus.

_“Free the world…”_

They sung out as the bell ringing hit a crescendo and, before they all faded out, John braced himself as the pictures appeared.

_“Free the world…”_

Homeless predators from his home city, starved and freezing. Their collar lights shone out bright, and their eyes were dead.

_“Free the world…”_

He covered his eyes, trembling from the painful memories, as he saw a racoon, her face covered by a blanket, in the middle of the street. Her limbs were twitched up terribly, the pain coming through from them. Her belly was full and round, but he knew the life in it was dead.

_“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

Young boys and girls looking up. They reminded him so much of his little boy. His little Nicky, now locked in a cell if lucky. In that hell if not. They stared out at the camera. Broken.

_“Free the world…”_

Another young girl, lying on the floor. She was clutching her collar tight and crying, and he felt sick as he saw the red light and the little hidden spark from beneath.

_“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

A school picture, of what he remembered was happytown secondary. He looked up at the stands, which he remembered being so full. They seemed so empty now. Drabber, duller too.

_“Free the world…”_

A graveyard, so many of the graves having similar dates on them.

_“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

A spaced-out cheetah. He looked like he’d lobotomised himself, likely on drugs to stop him shocking himself. His research had shown that they were either placebo’s or put the mammals into depression. Either way, they cost a fortune. Despite that, so many sought their relief.

_“Free the world…”_

Pictures of broken and bruised predator mugshots, so many of them with burnt fur by those damn things.

  _“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

A picture of a bear father, flinching and cowering as his daughter, looking like she was about to be executed, got fitted with a collar. The damn cheery face of the llama doctor made the watching fox’s fists begin to tremble.

_“Free the world…”_

A massive poster set up on a building, full of predators caught tampering with collars and keys. John’s eyes widened as he thought he saw a fox staring out. Could it be…?

_“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

He opened his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He wasn’t looking at the video anymore.

_“Free the world…”_

Opening it up, he looked on at a familiar picture. Him, his beloved, and his little boy. They were looking forwards and smiling. They thought that the prey were accepting them during those two weeks. That everything would be getting so much better. They had no idea…

_“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

A tear, and a second, dropped down on the paper.

_“Free the world…”_

There was a faint touch on his paw, and John saw that it was Bob’s. It was a tiny gesture, and it helped.

_“LET! THEM! KNOW! IT’S! CHRISTMAS TIME!”_

This whole thing was just that. A tiny gesture. He hoped that it would raise a tiny little bit, nothing unreasonable, to help fund the underground and the resettlement programs. The therapy and the medical care. Even the propaganda and information smuggling. Maybe a few predators would hear it, and learn that the wider world hadn’t forgotten.

_“Free the world…”_

He hoped that they knew that there were those outside who cared and loved them. He hoped that one day he could return safely, and he and his family would be together again. Free. Happy. Safe. If there ever was a greatest Christmas present, that would be it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by real events, though mixing up two separate decades, the previous song was, of course, ‘Do they know it’s Christmas time’ by band aid. I won’t give away who those mammals represented, or why I chose those species for those artists… yet. Another fun game for you to play.
> 
> As for this next fic, it’s technically part of my upcoming ‘Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia’ series, which so far only contains the short fic ‘Different’. Reading that, though, is totally unnecessary for reading this.
> 
> I’ve completed the other two chapters for this project, and I’ll be writing some new chapters for Embers of the Past up until Christmas. I’ve already got four or so chapters done, including an absolute monster that, after editing, might turn into my all time longest (unless I split it up… I might do that. But only once). That fic should return early-mid January.
> 
> After that?
> 
> Well, I’ve got a lot (read metric ass-ton) planned for the ‘Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia’ series.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .

**Chapter 5:**

**.**

Snow fell down outside in blowing flurries. They danced in the night, lit up by the cast glow of the streetlights and the luminescent windows. Nick looked outside and suppressed a shiver, his fur really fluffing up.

He didn’t like the cold.

He _really_ didn’t like the cold.

But it was certainly a beautiful thing to lay his eyes on as he rested after a long day at work. He chuckled slightly as his eyes went to sit down on another beautiful thing, lying just next to him.

“No-No-No!” She was going, holding up her paw to him. “ _This_ is the best part!”

He peered over onto her tablet, smiling as a web video that she and her friends all watched back in their school years played on the screen. A piece of sentient toast was talking to a member of the galactic church, which somehow made sense.

“ _I’m dreadfully sorry for this, I’m sure the banging will stop soon. He did promise…”_ he tried to apologise, only for a scream to cut in.

“I DID NOT CONSENT TO THIS!!!!!!!!”

There was a deep rumble and, putting down his tea, the chaplain looked over. “ _Yes, it’s quite off-putting_ ,” he noted, only for the screen to suddenly shake as a blast hit it. The dust cleared, and a dazed looking cow was looking into. _“So, this was not what I thought a singularity looked like on the inside…”_

The sentient toast, alarmed, ran to his window and peered out. His eyes widened and, looking down onto the lunar surface, they rested on a drooling and cackling prawn, standing rather close to a catapult.

“ _WHAT’S THE MEANING OF THIS!”_ the crispy bit of bread shouted out, alarmed _._

“I fix the black holes!” he bit of seafood proudly announced, as the screen briefly pulled back to show the multiple black holes that had been surrounding the moon, now all plugged with bovines, their back ends sticking out.

_“By catapulting cows around?”_

_“… That’s right!”_

_“That’s ridiculous.”_

_“No, it is good science!”_

Judy chuckled happily as the video went on, before sighing. “Old Mr Weasel. How you made us laugh…” she said happily.

“Yeah,” Nick noted, rolling his eyes. “Though I’m afraid my favourite character is still Moon Keith Moon Moon.”

“Each to their own,” Judy went, before sitting up. “Just going to get some water, then onwards!”

“Right,” the fox noted, as he slowly got up off his belly and onto his haunches. He looked around Judy’s tiny little apartment. Tonight would be her last night in it before going back to her family home for Christmas and moving into a new apartment in the new year. Tonight, though, was the last hurrah for the Grand Pangolin era, and they were seeing out the place together.

Well, she was.

Nick thought it was silly to be sentimental about this place, especially given that someone like Judy deserved something much better. After all, he noted, he felt at home in this kind of place, which meant it was far too low for the likes of her.

…

He paused, closing his eyes, as he told himself that he was wrong to say that. That he always deserved better. It was one of the exercises Dr Lupuleli had given him, to stop him thinking down on himself. It got tiring doing it, but then again it showed how much work was to be done. He was never worse than anyone else, even before he changed his life around. He had a good job, friends he could count on, he had respect and even love. He and his mother would be joining the Fox family, on invite, along with the Silverfox’s over the holiday season. It was going to be…

He trailed off as his eyes rested on Judy. Dressed up in a fox onesie, a joke purchase she’d given herself, she gave a very lapine hop and leapt over him, bounding to a stop on the mattress. He couldn’t help but not look at her, her pretty face and her innocent eyes, that saw the goodness even in him. He felt like he wanted to say something, but a familiar hitch caught in his throat and he turned back to the screen.

“The next episode’s real fun,” she said, as she crawled up. Pressing the play button, they settled down together, Nick relaxing as she snuggled by him. He found it easy when she led, and he was happy for her to…

-foot stroke his tail!

His eyes widened, and he quivered, shivering slightly again as the action repeated. There was a soft chuckle from the bunny, seeing that he liked it, and she did it again. He felt a wash of relief and comfort and…

_Purrr….._

“BWAHAHAHA!” Judy burst out, all while Nick froze, his pupils shrinking down into pinpricks. “Hahahaha…. I didn’t know you could do that! That’s so cute!”

“Y-yeah,” he noted, before looking away. Suddenly he didn’t feel relaxed anymore. He felt vulnerable again. A little purr slipping out, betraying his feelings and emotions, and there was nothing he could do. He felt his throat tighten, and his control on everything slip slightly. He wanted to snuggle Judy back. He wanted to kiss her, but… -But what if he went too far! What if he spoiled something, or lost control and started betraying feelings and secrets and…

“You know Fluff,” Nick noted, standing up on the bed. “It’s been a lovely night. Buuuuut…. -I think I ought to be getting home.” He gestured to the time, then out the window.

Judy smiled, nodding. “Sure, thanks for spending the night partner.” He slipped out, standing up, but he halted as soon as a paw grasped his. “Or,” the bunny suggested, “you could stay the night?”

“…Yeaahhhh…..” Nick began, his don’t screw up warnings telling him to get out ASAP. “But I really can’t stay.”

“Are you certain?” she asked, pointing out to the window. Nick turned and shivered as he saw the growing flurries. He could even see all the hairs on his muzzle stand on their end.

“Fluff,” he chuckled. “Are those ears just for show? I’ve got to go…”

“Maybe,” she began, giving him a teasing look. “But I know how you hate the cold, and…”

“And this evening, wonderful as it’s been, has come to an end.”

“Of course it’s wonderful,” she noted, “you were here, just as I hoped.”

“Yes,” Nick agreed, smiling and nodding. “Very nice.”

“Unlike out there,” Judy pointed out as she prowled around him. Nick’s eyes glanced at her swishing fake tail, held onto it as if in a trance. Silent as the grave he looked upon the forbidden fruit as her paws pushed into his. “Besides,” she said, “your pads feel frozen already!”

The fact that he was bewitched, gazing upon the siren in front of him, hit him hard, and he stumbled back. Closing his eyes and telling himself to get back in control, he closed his stared forwards and spoke out. “My mother might worry…”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she chuckled, wandering back over to the tablet.

“Even up in heaven,” Nick said, jabbing a finger upwards. “Old Mr Wilde might be…”

“Is there a problem,” she said, her tone making it clear that she knew something was up, and that she was going to have some fun finding out about it. “Maybe I can make this place feel a bit warmer?” She tapped on her tablet and turned it around, a video of a fireplace showing. It even hissed and roared as the wood was placed on it.

“I… -thanks,” he said, sidestepping the tightening nervousness on his muzzle. “But I better scurry off and…”

“Nick…” she sighed, stepping forwards. Her eyes opened, and Nick felt a hint of worry as he saw the pity in them. “You don’t need to hurry off handsome,” she said with a smile, before walking over to a little box. Rustling through it, she brought out a small clear bottle. “How about a little liquid Hopps courage?”

Nick gazed at the small moonshine bottle before shaking his head as he resigned himself to it. “Does this include the courage from a certain member of the Hopps clan?” he asked, as he watched her pour it into a shot glass. His eyes narrowed deviously. “Is this going to be water or pure alcohol?”

“See for yourself?” she asked, her eyebrows rising up. “Say, mind putting on some music?”

Nick turned his phone onto shuffle as a second glass was poured. “What would the neighbours think?”

“THAT SONG’S OVERRATED!”

“NOT IT’S NOT!”

“YES IT IS!”

“SHUT UP! I CAN’T HEAR IT!

NO! YOU SHUT UP!”

His mood souring, Nick took his glass and chucked it back. His eyes widened, his throat burned and, as he forced it all down, he broke into a set of coughs and gasps. “Woah! What was in that?”

“You’re not going to get any cabs at this hour,” Judy noted at random, as the fox paused as he registered the odd tangent. He didn’t even notice the neighbours actually shut up. He looked at her, his eyes once more drawn, and he couldn’t lift them away.

“I wish I could…” he began, only to flinch as she took her own shot. Slamming the glass down, she wavered out a bit and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Your eyes really are like emeralds, y’know,” she drunkenly slurred in that way that she fake drunkenly slurred things. It was just another quirk that Nick liked about her…

“-To break this spell…” he whispered, before blinking. Did he? Wasn’t this urge to distance himself the kind of behaviour he was trying to stop. To get rid of. Too… He closed his eyes, breathed in, and forced it out of him. “How about I stay?”

Judy smiled warmly and walked passed him. His hat was on the bedside table, and she chucked it up onto one of the clothes hooks on the door. “Don’t want this messing up your hair, do we?”

“Is… -Is this the alcohol?” he asked, suddenly concerned again. “Maybe I should say no and…”

“Come here,” she whispered, as she hugged him.

“I want to point out,” he said, matter-of-factly. “That I did try…”

“Now don’t go hurting my pride, Nick,” she said, as she held one of his paws and guided him back towards the bed.

“Why?” he teased, a sudden mischievous smile on his muzzle. “You know…. I reeaaallllyyyyy can’t stay.”

“Don’t hold out,” she swooned.

“It’s only freezing out there,” he joked. “I simply must go!”

“But it’s cold out there,” she whispered.

“Do I want to spend a happy night with you?” he asked, looking up and jiggling about. “Yes, yes I do… -but the answer is nope-arino!”

“I know how much you’d hate it out there,” she teased, as she pulled him down onto the bed.

“You’re being very welcoming, you know that carrots?”

“Well, I was lucky to have a special foxy come around!”

“And it just is so very nice and toasty in here. I do love the fire!”

“And look at that blizzard out there,” she whispered, giving a pretty flick towards the window.

“You don’t want to know what my sister would think?” he teased, as Judy put up a finger and traced on his lips. On the mention of the none-existing sibling she poked him on the nose. “And god forbid my brother!”

“As long as you don’t mean Finnick,” she said, with a tropical smile on her mouth. “Then he’s as dangerous as one of your shirts.”

“Unlike the mind of my aunt,” he noted, before giving a cartoonish shiver of fear.

Judy chuckled. “Keep filling me up with those tasty lips of yours?”

“Might need to turn you off them,” he noted. “Smoke?”

“I…” she began, before her eyes widened as she spotted the falling snow. “Woah! That’s even worse now. I haven’t seen it that bad even in TundraTown!”

“And through that,” Nick said, his voice coming out easier thanks to some liquid Hopps family courage. “I must wander and quest back to my humble abode!”

Judy glanced back at him, her nose twitching mischievously. “I don’t want to see you turned into a foxcicle, silly.”

“Better lend me your coat then,” he teased.

“What about your poor frozen legs, all up to your knees!”

“Caring about my legs,” he gasped. “How grand!”

There was a chuckle, and she held one of his paws tighter. “I’m getting excited about stopping you doing something stupid, you know?”

“But a bunny and a fox?” he asked. “Don’t you see…”

She gasped. “How can you put yourself down like that. Oh Nick, you wound me!”

He felt a bit nervous with the reminder, but as they played and bantered he found himself having too much fun. He carried on. “What will the precinct think? Imagine Clawhauser’s gossip!”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “So much better than you freezing solid! I’ll be sad forever then…”

“As… -as long as they don’t imply anything,” he teased, testing the waters. He felt worried saying it, but then again… Maybe… -Just maybe, if he learnt that she did feel the same way… -In solid words, and then…

“That I let you get pneumonia?” she gawped melodramatically, before shaking her head. “It may not be an ice fishing accident, but I’m not letting you get the same thing that Mr Silverfox got!” She paused, a sudden shiver running through her, and she whispered out her thoughts sadly. “Two years after the damage, and he still struggles here and there with the damage, poor tod.”

Nick looked at her and looked away, sighing. It was a silly hope. Just like her loving him in the way he loved her. Just like… -He felt silly for bringing it up and hoping. Stupid for letting himself get vulnerable, being drawn into those siren feelings. Betraying what he felt, and… “I really can’t stay,” he noted, glumly.

…

He felt a soft hug around him. “How many times have you used that silly old one?” she asked. “We’ve still got a whole night and tomorrow morning to enjoy all sorts of things, don’t we? I’m gonna share ALL my favourite vids!”

She hugged tighter and he felt better. That last thing he said was old and silly. He smiled, and put a paw around her, and they looked into each other’s eyes. Staring into them, he felt the siren call and he let her. “Yeah…” he whispered. “I’ll stay.” He shrugged, glancing over to the heavy flurries of snow that danced outside. “Besides, it’s…”

“Cold outside,” they said together. Judy turned back to her screen, restarting the video that took place after the cow and black hole one. Nick was more than happy to stay with her and enjoy it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: As many people correctly guessed, that was based off of ‘Baby it’s cold outside’. I’ve also posted that story by itself (totally not to take advantage of a separate Christmas story competition), marking it as the 2nd in my Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia series. I’ve also chosen to retcon (both in it, and the story ‘Different’) the time that Kris’s father was ill. A normal pneumonia case tends to clear up in a week so, even if he had a serious affliction with many complications and a long period of physical therapy/ recovery, two years seems crazy. As a result, I’m bringing it down to six months. He got it in February, ‘Different’ took place in August, and this fic is set in December. I hindsight, that timespan also works better for Ash and Kris’ relationship with each other.
> 
> On the same note, I retconned a little passage from ‘Different’, the bit with Mr Fox talking about the party. I’ve clarified that a certain the comment he made was meant in a very joking/ ice-breaking manner, and not meant to be as callous/ unfeeling as they originally appeared.
> 
> Anyway. Onwards!

 

.

.

.

**Chapter 6**

**.**

“And we offer our prayers, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy ghost,” the private chaplain said. King Nicholas, of Bohemia, bowed down at his feet. He, and his private entourage, knelt in St George’s basilica. The church that his own father had built and in which he and his mother, Nick’s beloved Grandmother, were interred.

 The little thought sent a quiver down his spine, the fox remembering back to how he heard the news of the grand fox’s demise, back when he was fourteen. It had stung then, and the murder of his beloved grandmother afterwards by bitter rivals and turncloaks had been among the cruellest salts in the wound. The last had been having to exile his mother after her bad deeds. Hard but necessary.

Regardless, he remembered, he had his duty now and to his people. This day though, almost as much as the previous one, was for the lord. The chaplain, speaking in Latin rather than the native script, spoke out the rights and he returned them. Incense burned, and hymns were sung and chanted, and the walls, painted with the pictures of the martyrs, seemed to shiver and move as the burning lights lit them up.

There was a soft pause and he, and his family, stood up. The chaplain, bringing out the wine and bread, brought it forwards. A spoon filled up, and a torn up chunk placed in, the fox took the communion and received the blessing. He stood by as the rest of the family were provided with the same rights. As he did so, he felt a slight breeze of the chill wind. His fur ruffled up, and he knew that it would be a cold night.

.

Afterwards it was the time for the festivities, which King Nicholas was to preside over. His loyal and trusted page, Benjamin, ran along beside him. Whatever speed him being a cheetah conferred, it was taken away by his large size. The big cat had a certain enjoyment of the sweeter foods that could be provided, though, much to the king’s liking, it was matched by his personality. “-And we have reports that your brother was unable to attend at all, your Lordship.”

“That is a shame,” he commented rather blankly, having always had a weak connection with the younger fox. “Any other news?”

“The last of the flooding on the Vlatava is gone, my lord,” he noted, smiling. “Indeed, we should expect even more bountiful harvests in the coming year.”

Nicholas smiled. “A well fed population is certainly a good gift to receive,” he noted. “Certainly, if we are going to be feasting up here, we don’t want our citizens starving down there.”

“Yes my lord,” the big cat agreed, before turning forwards and sniffing. “-And speaking of feasts, I’ve been seeing the cooking going on! This is going to be the best feast ever!”

Nicholas chuckled. “Didn’t you say that about the Christmas feast yesterday?” he asked, as the pair began walking across one of the castle courtyards, covered deeply in a pure and undisturbed white blanket. Nick was light enough to walk on top of the thick snow, which crunch as he walked across it. As for Clawhauser, it came up to his knees and billowed out in clouds and powder as he walked through it. He shivered slightly and, even if his clothes were thick and winter fur long, Nick couldn’t help but do the same. Soon enough, though, they arrived in the feasting hall. Nick gave a toast to his soldiers, lords and servants from his high table, before they began the celebrations.

A young server arrived first and knelt before him. Holding up a silver plate, a finely carved selection of game birds, pheasant, partridge, goose and even a swan was there for him to choose the finest cut.

“What is your name?” the fox asked, looking down at the young wolf, still a pup.

“Remmy, my lord,” he asked.

“And what is your family name?”

“Packson, my lord. The name of my father, my mother, and my brother.”

Nick nodded. “Is that your only family?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And what meat do you enjoy the most.”

“I…” the wolf said, pausing. His head tilted to the side a bit, before returning straight. “The goose, my lord.”

“And your family cooks the meat?”

The pup beamed out proudly. “They do my lord! My brother and I take turns in the wheel, turning the spit.”

Nick chuckled, smiling. Leaning forwards he took the plate from the wolf. The pup looked on in awe, and his eyes widened as he received a ruffle on his head. “I enjoy goose too,” he said, taking a knife and carving off a drumstick. Taking a bite, he savoured it before looking back. “-And your family have done a fine job at cooking. They are true masters of the spit.”

The wolf pup stepped back, gasping. “Why… why… -thankyou my lord!”

Nick looked at him, smiling as he pulled the rest of the massive goose on a plate. He then pushed it forwards, before placing some select scraps and his existing drumstick onto a second plate. “This goose doesn’t belong to me,” he said, smiling. The wolf’s eyes widened like the very dinner plates being used. “So,” the fox continued, “once you have finished serving, come back and take this to your family and the kitchen staff. It belongs to all of them!”

“Yes, my lord! Thankyou my lord!” the Pup replied, beginning to twitch and shake with excitement and happiness. Nick felt a warm feeling in his heart as he saw it, before he pushed back the silver tray, all loaded up with its meat, and waved it and the serving pup on. On turning back, he couldn’t help but chuckle as he saw Clawhauser look at the off limits goose broken hearted. If the cheetah thought he was going hungry though, he was badly mistaken. Soon huge dishes were coming out and being shown around. Salads and leaf dishes for many of his herbivorous lords, while he enjoyed breads and pies and meats. The pup returned, taking the goose he was due, and still it continued. Nick was feeling stuffed by the time that the first of the desserts were coming out. Even a little sick. Maybe that was the wine he’d been drinking? In any case, the loud noises and the smells and the heat were starting to get to him, and he didn’t want his subjects and friends from seeing that. A check glance at Clawhauser, spotting that he was groaning with the amount he’d eaten but was still trying to put more down him, was enough justification. “Ben,” he called, as he got up and walked over. “Do you mind having a quick walk with me? Just over the walls or something, get some fresh air?”

“I… -Yes, my lord,” the cheetah said, correcting himself.

Nick chuckled. “Do not feel forced, friend.”

“I… -well,” the big cat sighed warmly. “It might free up some space.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, as the pair departed. Out of the great hall and onto the top of the walls. Heat was replaced with cold, a bitter chill that cut through them both. Nick found it refreshing though and breathed deeply to help clear his lungs. All around them the snow was falling, turning the twilight sky half white, and Nick’s breath misted up in front of him, his tongue tasting a tang in the air. He rested upon one of the battlements, leaning against the cobble brickwork and looking down at the city below. The roofs of houses, all dusted white, fell down beneath them. Twinkles of orange came out from their windows, while embers flew up in the smoke from their chimneys. The moon shining through the clouds was enough for Nick’s night vision to see everything clearly. He looked out further towards the Vlatava river, frozen solid, and at the bank beyond. He paused though as he saw a lone figure there. He could just about make out a bunny, and he or she was walking along the bank, in and out of the trees.

“Clawhauser?” Nick asked, curiously. “Do you know why a bunny might be out at this hour, by the river bank?”

Ben looked down and shrugged. “I guess it’s just a mammal gathering firewood,” he suggested.

“But a bunny,” Nick repeated. “Don’t they burrow? I thought that their warrens were deep enough that they never have to worry about the cold in winter.”

“Oh,” Clawhauser noted, closing his eyes as he thought. “If I recall, the burrows may be chilly all year around, but they are never freezing. Fires near the top help, different families having different ways of moving the heat. But mostly, they use warm clothes, blankets and their fur. It works.”

Nick nodded, before pausing. He looked down again, making out the figure of the mammal. He thought he saw the outline of clothing that would befit a doe, making him more confused. “Then why would they be out at night collecting?” he asked, pondering the question.

“I don’t…” the cheetah began, before pausing as his eyes widened. “Oh Em Goodness!”

“Why, what is it?” Nicholas asked.

“The floods,” he said, gesturing to the river. “Many burrows had their deepest and warmest places filled with water. Most families could chain bucket it out, but it would still be far colder than usual! Damp too! They might all be huddling in the surface section.”

“-And that’s cold, hence gathering the winter fuel,” Nick noted, feeling increasingly concerned about the state of affairs. A family out there, freezing, while they feasted. Indeed, they’d celebrated the floods for enriching the land, but members of those families might not live to see the bountiful harvests of the upcoming autumn. The fox couldn’t help but be concerned about the state of affairs, so an idea struck him. He turned to Clawhauser and spoke. “Do you wish to help me or go back to the feast?”

The big cat paused, thinking, before shaking his head. “I’ll probably regret this,” he said, “but I’ll come.”

“Very well then,” Nick replied. “Let us meet up with Captain Bogo. I have a plan!”

The subsequent meetup with the captain of the guards was short but swift. He, and his soldiers, were to gather up some of the castle’s plentiful wood stores and to take them out the next day. The large buffalo, irritated at the order but none the less obedient to his king, could carry enough wood and fuel to keep a dozen rabbit burrows warm for a week.

Nick, though, felt that some more had to be done. He took off his robes and put on thick winter clothing, and he asked Clawhauser to do the same. He hoisted a basket onto his back, filled with dry seasoned wood, and began marching out. The faithful, but weary, cheetah did the same behind him. “Your grace,” he whined. “Where are we going?”

“Just out to make a special delivery,” Nick happily informed, as they exited out of the castle gates. The city roads were mostly cleared, but there was still a crinkling layer of snow that crunched and cracked beneath their feet. Although lit up, the houses seemed very closed and unwelcoming. The fox left them all behind, quickly making his way towards the city gates.

“Halt!” one of the guards said, stepping forwards. It was a white timber wolf, standing up straight and with a paw stuck on his sword pommel. “Who goes there?”

“You’re really using that line Gary?” a grey timberwolf scolded, walking over to meet him.

“Yeah! I’m freezing out here, can’t I have some fun?”

Nick chuckled, only to halt as the pair turned to stare at him.

“What are you finding so funny?” they both said in unison.

Nick rolled his eyes, before bringing out a piece of paper. The white timber wolf took it and held it up, his eyes scanning along the writing, before he promptly fell backwards, stiff as a board.

“Wait… what!? GARY!” the first one panicked, running over to his packmate. He spared a brief glance at the piece of paper, before looking up at Nick and gulping.

“Your dedication to duty is admiral, though you could try to be a bit more pleasant,” Nick pointed out, retrieving the paper. The grey wolf bowed down in front of him.

“Yes, my king!”

“Tchhh….” Nick chided, before walking out with Clawhauser behind him. As he did so, he reached out a palm and patted the awestruck wolf on his head. “Who’s a good boy! You’re a good boy!”

He promptly joined his partner on the floor. Nick made sure that they were under cover, before heading out. Across the bridge he went. Even though the ice would easily take his weight, he wasn’t so sure about Clawhauser, and didn’t want his friend to crash down into the Vlatava. By the time he reached the other side he’d already picked up the scent of bunny and was walking forwards. He could soon see the imprint she’d made when wandering back, the drag of her wood basket evident. He followed it.

“This’ll all be green wood,” Nick noted glumly. “Unless she has a roaring fire going, it won’t be any good at all.”

“R-R-R-R-Right!” Clawhauser chattered behind him.

“But our wood will be nice and seasoned,” the fox added. “So it’ll burn good and well.”

“G-G-G-G-Great to know!”

They carried on, forwards, pushing through the forests and past the ice. On and on. Nick could smell them getting closer. Much closer. He also felt concern for his trusty page. The big cheetah seemed to be freezing to the bone, and they halted when they reached an inn.

“I’m not going to have you get to a burrow and be too large to fit,” the king commented. “I think we’re almost on top of them though. We get the wood to them, and I’ll give you some gold. Go back here. Stay the night. Treat yourself!”

“T-T-T-T-Thank you, my lord!”

Nick smiled and nodded, and on they went. Up ahead, he could see an area of fields, surrounding a small hillock. A grey and cloudy column of smoke was coming out of the chimney, a sure sign of wood struggling to burn. He saw the bunny too. Definitely a doe. She was freeing and shivering, struggling to pull her wood back to the door.

Nick smiled. It may be one day late, but she was going to get a very nice Christmas present this year. And doing that…

It felt good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Cimar, but it’s not Good St Nick. It’s good king Wenceslas, as many worked out. King of Bohemia, ruling from modern day Prague (hence the reference to the Vlatava river), the real life story isn’t as nice as the Christmas carol, just as Fox in the hen house pointed out. I made a few allusions to this. The other big clue is the fact that Nick refers to the Christmas feast taking place the day before, making this day boxing day. Or, as it’s also known, St Steven’s day. Hence King Nick looking out over the feast of Steven. We also had a cameo from Gary and Larry, and a little OC from one of my other fics too. Also, it seems that there’s a bit of confusion about the lyrics. I thought it was ‘came in sight’, hence why Nick sees Judy from afar (I imagined him seeing her through a window). However, as the magnificent Ubernoner (eveer eleer, vahra!) posted, it might be ‘came inside’. It seems that my version is the most common though. The things you learn!
> 
> While I thought it would be implied, Nick’s gift to Judy and the rest of the Hopps family would have been very welcome. And now, something I think many of you will very much enjoy. The last chapter this year. And so, I'll take this time to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .

 

.

**Chapter 7:**

**.**

_Twenty-one years before._

_._

“Happy Christmas Frankie,” he said, before looking down.

“Happy Christmas Nick.”

**.**

**.**

_The present._

**.**

“I got a Christmas card earlier…”

“Really,” the ewe grumbled, looking over to her former business partner. “Are you really bringing that up now!”

The llama pulled back slightly and shrugged. “I… -Well, are we going to stay here silent forever? Are we going to just get bored?”

“Quite frankly I’d prefer it if we just stewed in our irritation at your failings,” a third member, a goat, muttered. She looked over to them, her teeth grinding. She’d put up with them before, for traditions sake. For duty’s sake. For businesses stake. But the three mammals before her had all failed her. Betrayed her. Just like the fourth one who’d abandoned them all.

“WHAT! My failings!” the ewe hissed, turning to face the goat. “Nancy, I did everything right!”

“Then why are we here then,” she snarked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she muttered back, her hooves punching up into the air. “Is it because you let your little secret out into the open? Is it that you failed to kill that idiotic bunny!”

“But you were the one who showed the entire damn city that our little cover story was false, wasn’t it?” Nancy cut in. She looked at the ewe and shook her head, hating that the irritating little sheep was trying to pass the buck.

Dawn Bellwether gave a little shrug. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that your device that should have made their little hero into the killer we wanted him to be… -DIDN’T WORK!”

The goat was about to respond, only to be cut off by a banging on the door. They looked over to see a slot open up and two eyes stare in. “Keep it qui-et in thar,” it scolded, a Dutch accent evident. “You don’t have long now.” It shut again, and the four inside were left in the quiet once more. Ears flicked. Grumbles came and went. In the end, the goat spoke up again.

“You could have declared martial law,” she muttered. “Got the army in, gun down those filthy chompers and…”

“-And what?” the sheep hissed. “Got all those cute bunnies as well? I gave the orders to the troops, but those bunnies wouldn’t let them get close. That stinking pelt had deceived them! Convinced them that the natural order…”

She was cut off as Nancy gave out a laugh. “’The Natural Order’” she scoffed, shaking her head. “The natural order is the good old work of yours truly,” she boasted. “There is no natural order, just some mammals on top, some below, and I was DEDICATED to making sure that we were the winners, they the losers.”

“And look where we are now, huh?” the ewe hissed. She jumped up and gestured around the room. “Look where we are now?” She pulled up the sleeve of her cheap, court supplied, suit and thrust it into the goat’s face. “This may not be orange or black and white, but it might as well be! So, Nancy. Tell me! Tell me right now, does this feel like winning?”

The goat looked away sternly, staring up into a corner. “It would have been okay, if Hoofert wasn’t happy enough to stop the censorship. He just wanted the ratings and, when the truth was giving that, he threw us to the wind. He should be here with us! Right here and now!”

“Well,” a new voice cut in. They all looked at the hulking buffalo that sat nearby. “He was less connected with us, and there isn’t that much to implicate him. He was a toady, we all knew it, and I’m pretty sure any one of us would take a plea deal like he did, wouldn’t you?”

Nancy harrumphed slightly. “You have so little faith in me…” she began, only to be cut off by a grunt from behind her. She turned, her hoof tapping as she looked up at the Llama. “Care to explain that, Jimmy?”

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about Nancy!” he mocked. “We were going so well, all up and up with our partnership, then you threw me under the bus for no reason and…”

“I didn’t throw you under any bus,” she said, her voice harsh but measured. Warning him.

He cackled slightly, shaking his head. “Seriously!? You give me collars that don’t shock, and…”

“-And saved your pred food business,” she cut in, marching right up next to him and jabbing him in the leg. “Saved that and its ten-fold mark-up! I saved all your other predator disease pills and stuff.”

“But what about my taming pills!” he cried out. “My numbing creams. By destress patches. My…”

“However much money you got from making that worthless stuff, you could have survived without it,” she scolded. “I was saving you. I was saving you, but you were just too greedy to see it! Too short sighted, never thinking ahead! Because, if those preds kept on getting shocked, you’d have less and less of them to fleece! Then you’ll have no hocus pocus pills to sell and no pred food as well! I! SAVED! YOU!”

“Then why am I here?” he asked. “Why are we all here!”

“Well,” Nancy lectured. “It wasn’t due to me!” It wasn’t. It most certainly wasn’t! By all rights that bunny should have been dead. Killed. Her brains splattered against the car by a bullet. That or being locked up somewhere were she’d never see the light of day again. Then there were those at the factory! How on earth did they let Hopps’ agents in, let them scan around, let them escape with the evidence and her test subject. Botchers and bunglers, they’d all failed her and now she was getting picked up for their sins and failings. The world could be so cruel….

“And don’t think you can worm your way out of it too, Bullworth.”

“-And what did I do?” he asked.

“You let the train carrying those deluded bunnies into the city!” she grimaced. “We had the bunny tax and the regs, all to keep those incessant breeders out of the way! You had one job, stop them coming in, and did you do that?”

“I cut the power,” he said, a hint of rage coming through in his voice. “I stopped that train…”

“Then how did they get to the city!”

“If two dozen polar bears decide that they’re going to take control, you can’t really do much, can you?” he commented, a dark levity to his voice. “Being tied up in the back of a van doesn’t really give you much chance to help. Unlike, say, being on a roof with some assassins.”

She looked at him, her hand hooves clenching. She could feel the keratin digits grind against each other as she tried to keep her cool. “Passing the buck again, I see!”

Jimmy, the llama, laughed. He laughed hard. Nancy felt the salt in the wound, the giant middle finger, and had to use every inch of willpower to hold back.

“Do you want me to drag you down with you?” she warned. His eyes immediately widened, and he silenced himself. “Good,” she fumed, before walking backwards and forwards across the cold concrete floor. This way and that. Trying to calm herself down, rather than balking in the unfairness of it all. The whole situation was just salt in the wound. They tore off her glorious, righteous plan and now they took her out to a backwater foreign country where she could see chompers living and working with nothing around their necks. Not one of the collars that they, by her will, deserved. And now, they dared to try her for her ‘crimes’. What gave them the right? What made them think that they could hold her to their ‘laws’.

“So, our last Christmas.”

She didn’t pay the llama any care or mind.

“What have we even done to deserve this,” Nancy hissed. She didn’t deserve anything like this kind of treatment, especially at such a time of ‘goodwill’.

“Well,” Dawn muttered. “There’s our genocide charge for a start. Maybe if you’d have dealt with that bunny properly, we wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t expect this year to end like this,” the Llama said, glumly. “And thanks to the lobbyists from Zoograd, next year might see us all on the gallows…”

The dark tone filled the room. It carried on as the door opened, and Nancy and the others were taken by the guards. She couldn’t help but glare at the disgustingly bare neck on one of them, a wolf. It would look so good with any of hre fantastic models on there. She imagined each and every one of them as they were dragged into the austere courtroom. Mammals from so many nations were there, just looking at them. They were led to the dock, and the charges were read out. The international court was in session.

.

.

.

Old grandfather Hopps eased himself into his chair. His sons, his daughters, his grandchildren. They all looked up to him, saying the grace, before they started eating. He happily munched on bits of salad and other greens, filling himself up. Laughter was filling the room and, though he found it a little tiring, he joined in. He always hoped to have some fun here and there, and he was receiving it.

“Want some… -want some caramelised carrots?”

He looked over to see Stu looking at him. One of his sons, for better or for worse. The buck stood there, a flicker of a smile maybe appearing on his face, as he offered up the treat himself. “I-uh… -I made them myself.”

Pop-Pop Hopps scoffed, before leaning over and picking one up. He might as well humour the son. “So,” he asked, “you been out much lately?”

He paused, holding his paws to his heart. “Yes. Well, I do like going out. Maybe, just for safety, keeping the runs short you know. I mean, knowing now the truth about preds and such… -they’re real swell guys, you know! Just… -just pays to be safe as well.”

Grandfather Hopps’ eyes narrowed a bit and he shook his head. How Judy came out of him, he didn’t know. He looked over to see her and smiled proudly. That was better. He could see her now, in her wheelchair and eating the family dinner. Her movements were slow and careful, and he was worried that she might be getting a bit tired. Her recovery was slow, long, ongoing. She’d done something crazy and dangerous, but he was damn proud of her. She reminded him of old Lem. It had been a stab in the heart to hear that he’d passed away a few years before. But they were both the same age, and whereas the bunny was blessed with an easy life, old Lem wasn’t. Old Lem was given hell. The old bunny never got to say an apology or a thankyou or a final farewell. At the very least, though, he’d managed to meet Lem’s family. It was a consolidation as welcome as it was upsetting. He could see his old saviour in them.

“Uh, Dad…”

The old bunny paused, looking back at the carrot. Then at his son. Then at his carrot which looked a bit less appetising.

“Are you gonna…”

He looked up again, his eyes closing slightly as he saw those begging eyes. He guessed he’d better… “Senior moment,” he explained, before taking up the carrot and munching it.

…

His eyes widened, and he put it down again. “That was good…” he whispered, shocked.

“P-Pardon?”

He looked over at his son and managed to genuinely smile. “That tasted really good. Well done”

The suddenly widening eyes, and the cobra strike like hug, confused him a bit. He hugged his son back, pausing as he heard and felt some crying…. Now he was very confused. He rolled his eyes and patted the fully grown bunny on the back. He’d enjoy this Christmas feast. With those in his family who he loved, to varying degrees, be they old or young.

.

.

.

Nick Wilde stepped into the familiar store. The bell, tinkling as he went in, put him both at ease and at worry. Sure, it had been months since their argument. Certainly, it had been a long time since the broken window on the door had been replaced. Still, there was that faint unease about entering. Maybe it was due to the fact that he knew it was the wrong building, that it wasn’t the childhood home that he’d shared with his parents, and which was once filled with so many happy memories. He remembered, not long after his father had been taken, that they’d moved to the much smaller and far less grand shop he was entering now. Sure, his mother explained it away, talking about the need to downsize. How selling the property would help stay them over, given how his father had ‘left them poor and alone thanks to his idiocy’.

Nick flinched. Those kinds of comments, bitterly coming out of her as she was torn apart by grief and the dreadful second generation of collars, were one of the reasons why he was always remembered ‘John Wilde’s Suits and formal hire’ far better than the dour ‘Suitopia’. Maybe it was due to the fact that this place had been much smaller, though he still had his own bedroom. Then again that, and pretty much all the living space, had been in the basement. It was always a darker, joyless place. Any happy emotions were promptly cut out by the collars, while his mother had been a blank and emotionless robot. There was nothing good to remember about here. Not really.

With his new wealth, he could have purchased his childhood home back.

Could have…

Some construction company had flattened it all right after they moved out and built some featureless building there. With that, Nick’s train of thought completed the long circle it was on. She’d explained it away, but he knew the truth. The prey didn’t want to leave it as a shrine, or a symbol of resistance or hope. They’d given his mother a ‘more than fair’ sum, but there had been a dark tone behind it. Move out, or else.

She was too broken at that point to offer any resistance. Off, broken, tamed… All words that could be used to describe her. As he walked around, curious as to where she was or what she was doing, he relaxed as he heard the sound of the shower downstairs. He sat down onto a chair, rubbing his temple, and closed his eyes. He was always worried about her, but he was getting her back. He remembered the first time…

.

“Mom?” he called. The streets of HappyTown had been filling up again, the protestors returning from their victory. Already, the screams and shouts and joy of the celebrations had been starting up again. On the night that he’d snapped, he’d spotted bonfires burning and heard the sounds of music, howls and of love sing into the air. It had been magical, yet he’d missed it. Had to get back to the bunker. But…

But…

She’d missed it too.

He’d forgotten about her until Bogo, the police chief still recovering after seeing… after… Nick shook his head, wanting to get those sights out of his mind. Regardless, the chief had asked him why he hadn’t uncollared his mother. Some officers had reported back after interviewing her, stating that she had her collar on and seemed to have been passed by. They didn’t ‘get him’. Nick had told him the truth. That she’d refused. The cape buffalo looked away, guiltily. He, the symbol of everything he hated, then turned to him and asked the criminal fox for help. For guidance. Everything he knew about right and wrong was shattered, and the chief was the only one who could remake this city into something good. But he needed a true hero to follow, to show him the way. So, he was shown Wild Times. So, he got it into his mind to start work on lifting the city states isolation. So, he got it into his mind to help find the right group of mammals to give the city over to when his stewardship was done. He chose to keep both the place of horrors built by the prey, and the place of joy built by the predator, alive. By the end of September, every prey mammal over the age of twelve would have seen both, so they knew it wasn’t faked. After that, they’d become museums. Museums that every Zootopia would go through…

He was getting sidetracked again, he noted. He was scared. Terrified. He opened the door, and peaked inside, and his heart fell as he spotted the quivery, jittering, messed up thing on the floor.

“Mom…”

She sniffed and grimaced, slowly lifting her head up. A bloodshot eye looked at him, quivering. “Nicky…” she whispered.

“It’s me, Mom,” he said, slowly. His tongue was catching on his throat, and every step seemed a long one. A scared one. He moved forwards again, only to freeze as she tightened herself up again. “It’s okay,” he said, sniffing. He… He wasn’t used to seeing her like this. The only time between his father’s arrest and his own that he saw her as anything other than an automaton was when she discovered some anti-collar poetry he’d been writing. The robot had woken up and turned into a monster then. It was the only time he ever remembered her beating him. Yelling at him. Screaming through the shocks. That they were good chompers. Tame chompers. We knew our place. We knew we deserved the collars. The pain. The hatred. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the memory even if he was about to relive it. “We’ve… we’ve won…”

He grimaced as he saw her shiver, the stabbing sound of her collar going off ringing out.

“You… You can be free now,” he said. “It’s over. It’s finally over.” He brought out a key and she shrieked. She stood up and tried to run away, but her paws slipped on the floor and she collapse as a powerful blast of electricity tore through her. Nick raced forwards as she broke down sobbing, more lashings coming out.

“NO!” she wailed. “NO! Nononon…”  **ZAP**

He grabbed her, hating how he had to be tough, and pushed down with the key, all as she screamed out again and again. Her wailings increased as a click was sounded, and he pulled the collar away.

Her paws tore up and grabbed it. “NO!” she screamed, her eyes blood red. Tears poured down her as she shook and quivered. “I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” she begged. “I’M A GOOD CHOMPER! I’M A GOOD CHOMPER!”

This was so much worse for Nick, and he hated the sight in front of him. He tore the collar away, his heart tearing apart as he had to shove her to the ground. He ran down the stairs, into the basement, into the bathroom. He threw it into the toilet, watching as it crackled and fizzed, before he pulled the flush and watched the wretched thing vanish.

“NOOOO!!!!!!!!”

He turned to see her there, on her knees, a look of horror on her face. She looked up at him and barked out. “YOU FILTH! YOU MONSTER! SAVAGE! SAVAGE!!!!”

“Mom,” he said, through tears as he walked forwards. “Please…”

“No. No. Not like you,” she cursed. “Not like you! I’m a good pred! Good pred! Know my place! I’ll get a new collar! Even safer for them! Better collar…”

“Please,” he begged, through tears. He then ran forwards and down, pulling his arms around her and clutching her tight in a hug. He was not going to let her out of it, even as she pushed and kicked and shoved. Even as she tried to break free. He grimaced through the clawing’s and yelled as she bit him. One of his paws had to be wrapped around her muzzle, as she pulled and tore and tried to be free. The tears came down her, as she tried and tried and tried.

She collapsed into him, still crying.

He hugged her back, as tight as he could. “Please…” he begged. “Please. It’s over. Please come back.”

She carried on crying. On and on. In the end she managed to say a few words. “It’s… it’s really over…”

“It is.”

“What happens when they come back!”

“They won’t.”

“But…”

“They won’t!”

…

…

She sniffed a bit louder than normal, and Nick felt a hopeful smile come upon his face as her grip tightened. “Oh god…” she said. “You… you did it…”

“I did,” Nick replied. He felt proud. He felt a smile on him.

“Oh god,” she said again, and Nick felt his smile leave him as he heard the tone she said it in. “I… -It… -It… -It would have worked….”

“Mom?”

“YOUR FATHER!” she wailed, breaking down some more. “If I didn’t stop him! If I didn’t… -and I… -I then made him….”

“No-no-no-no…” he urged, both thrilled and worried. She was talking good about him. She saw his plans as a good deed. But…

“I’M A MONSTER!” she screamed, as she was racked with a new round of tears.

“No you’re not,” he comforted.

“But… -but… -but I am! Twenty years! Twenty years, I… -I made everyone suffer!”

“No, you didn’t,” he urged. Holding her tighter.

“And… and I was so horrible to you!” she went, Nick’s eyes opening with surprise. “You… you… -you needed me,” she tried to say, having to gasp for air. He could hear how raw her throat was. “But I just stopped at everything…. I… I turned off and left you alone… I… -I’m sorry…. I’m such a…. such a horrible mother, I….”

She sobbed again, and Nick found tears silently pouring from his eyes. He was sad, but suddenly so happy. So very very happy. He pulled back and looked into that hurt face. That broken face. That injured face. He looked into it and smiled.

“Mom,” he managed to say. “I… I always loved you. I… I always wanted you happy and free, but… But there’s also someone who’s been gone a long time. A long, long time….”

“Who,” she whispered.

“Her name is Frankie Wilde,” he said, and he stuttered and shivered, his tongue tying itself up as it said those foreign words. “She was funny and caring, and loved me… -and she’s been gone twenty years, but… -but I think she’d coming back. I know she’s coming back, and… -I’ve missed you so much.” He lunged forwards, holding her tight. She put her arms around him, nervously at first, before breaking down once more.

.

“Nicky?”

…

“Nicky!?”

The fox woke up with a start, only to pause as he saw two fingers beneath his eyes. He looked up, eyes widening as she looked into him.

“You were crying, dear,” she said.

He reached up and felt, his paw pads feeling wet to the touch. “All those wasted years,” he whispered, before looking up and smiling.

She was smiling too.

Sweet Jesus capybara, he had missed that. He had missed that so much. Twenty years without seeing her smile, and he’d gotten used to it. But there she was. There she was…

They hugged and hugged tight. Again, not like all the clinical, obligatory ones, that he’d been given during the dark times. This one had emotion behind it. And he pulled back, frowning slightly as he saw a bit of a dark patch on her arm. He leant in to look at it and she back away, so he grabbed her and looked at it harder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I… I was just having trouble. Angry and sad and happy, and… and it was all just too much.”

“I know,” he said, sniffing as he turned away from the cigarette burn. They helped her focus. Zero back in onto her emotional centre zone. “But do you remember what Vanilla said?”

“Vanilla?” she asked.

“Vanilla Foxglove,” he said, his tone hardening a bit. “The arctic vixen on the television. Psychotherapist, gives out advice to all of us. Including how to get down from these mood swings  _without_ harming ourselves!”

“I…” she began, before turning away. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

He came up to her and gave her a gentle kiss. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said softly. “It’s hard, I know, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

She looked up and nodded, before turning distastefully to the floor. “It was another one of those letters.”

“Oh,” Nick commented, barely supressing a growl. Some sick prankster had been sending international letters to them, claiming to be his father. It was made all the worse given that the fox knew what his dear old man had gone through. He was registered as being transferred there, to that place, but any records of his fate after that had been destroyed. As sad as it was, he’d likely been cremated, and his ashes dumped into the sea.

He left it at that and turned out, with her. Finnick’s van was parked outside and waiting. Honey sat inside of it, getting a little bit better every day. Frankie and Honey embraced, and it was like the fallout had never occurred between them. Nick remembered it well, Honey’s paranoia beginning to manifest and his mother, appalled by her failure to submit, ostracising her. He’d remained in contact though, sneaking out. They’d comforted each other, relied on each other, needed each other. After the end of the collars, his mother had gone and begged for forgiveness, given how she’d abandoned her best friend when she needed help. She’d been received with open arms, and their friendship was back and as strong as ever.

They drove on to Wild Times, a little tradition. With the original park being preserved, Nick had received the permission and funding to build a bigger one. A better one. One that would be open to all, and a point of joy and love forever. Still, though. He had the keys and such to the old place, and he enjoyed taking his mother and Honey to it. Give the rides a few goes, while they still could. He remembered how both had screamed and laughed on their first go, before crying after. It would be a good time today, too. They passed through the cold streets of Happytown, which finally looked like its name suggested. Christmas was coming, and lights were being put up. They beamed out and Nick smiled. He’s always enjoyed the holiday season back when he was a kit. Loved it. But with the collars, they’d forgotten it. His arrest shut down the chance of a Wild Times Christmas party, but the new park was gearing up to host one. The fox closed his eyes and smiled. He was going to have a merry Christmas and a fantastic new year, with no more of the dread and horror that had plagued his life.

.

.

.

Temporary Mayor Bogo closed his eyes and winced as he walked through the expanded wards at Zootopia General. While Pred and Prey had been mixed together fairly soon after the collar abolition, there were still some areas that were predator exclusive. The ones holding the victims. He grimaced as he came up to another one, a Hyena. He’d lost half an arm and had been receiving pain medication and facial reconstruction ever since. He shook and jittered, before looking at the cape buffalo. “Please…” he whispered. “Please…. Send me to the happy place again. Please…”

“Are you in pain,” a new voice said. It was an arctic fox vixen, one who was already very well known across the city.

“No miss Vanilla,” he whined, before sobbing. “I… I just want to go to the happy place again. I want… I want to…”

The vixen walked forwards and held his hand, beginning to go through her counselling routine again. Professionally speaking, she’d had little to no experience before being thrust into the limelight. But being a psychologist and a previously collared predator meant a lot. She had the experience that many of the helpers who came from abroad didn’t have.

He watched her slowly as she tried to bring him out of it. He was getting worse though, worse and worse, and he felt a fire burn inside him. Nancy Goatz’s damn trinkets. They made the worst drugs look like candy. He’d been happy to see them get destroyed, but most of the predators who’d been freed from them had begged to have them back on. He was thankful that the rollout was stopped by Wilde’s little rebellion, else the effects could have been terrible. He left the room and carried on walking. That Hyena had been given life for stealing a collar key. He planned to open a knothouse. Bogo should have worked out that such things existed for a reason. He knew they existed. He knew what went on with them. He’d often noticed that there were few pred kids. But he never put it together. He was an idiot, and shouldn’t have been in charge of this city. But he was the best it got for now. So he carried on down, noticing the little decorations put up to celebrate the Christmas season. There was him, big and powerful, and all those patients around him. Weak. Powerless. He moved passed volunteers, ranging from penniless natives to rich mammals from other countries. He passed another victim, a wolf who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and then stolen away. He barely looked like a wolf now, and Bogo turned away in shame. Everything was just too wrong.

.

.

.

Central plaza in Zootopia was filled with the screams and laughter of children, all running about and playing. The great green space, upon which the great ‘picnic of freedom’ had taken place, was now decorated into a little winter wonderland. A small flurry of snow had helped to finish the effect, even if it was nothing compared to the deep powder found over in TundraTown. Slowly, down the steps of city hall, Judy Hopps walked. She had so many feelings about this place, ones which messed with her and confused her. She couldn’t parse an exact thought on it all. Instead, she just felt a little ache of tiredness in her legs.

“So, your feet still lucky?”

“It’s wavering a bit,” she said, her voice quiet and subdued. She reached into a pocket to bring out a throat lozenge, throwing it into her mouth and beginning to suck. Her throat had pretty much recovered but, as fate would have it, a cold had had to have come along.

“Mobile Bunny transportation device deployed.”

She turned and gave a little hop onto her wheelchair before looking up at Nick, giving him her thanks. He nodded, before they set off together. Judy sighed as she saw the ZPD precinct. While she’d been put onto basic detective training, she was still held back by her inability to go out on patrols and such. Her heart had taken a terrible beating in those few, dreadful, moments. She shivered as she thought about it, wondering what it would be like to be someone like Manchas. Turned into a murder weapon with one…

For once, the fact that it played havoc with her bunny heart gave her a hint of relief.

Though she did wish that it’d reach one-hundred percent again a bit faster. She didn’t need the chair much anymore, but the dizziness spells and weakness could still hit her. The physical therapy and exercises had been long and tiring, but she didn’t know when to quit. This time, next year, she’d be trained up as a detective. “Detective Hopps,” she whispered, smiling.

“A fear upon all the criminal elements.”

She found herself smiling and looked up at Nick. His voice gave her comfort, and she felt safe when he was around her. She wanted him safe and happy, but he’d go out of his way to help her.

Given her detective mind, she was pretty sure that she knew why.

… And that terrified her.

Not in the way she was supposed to be terrified, mind you. She still remembered the ‘Prey Beware’ films that had played in school, and at the cinema. Talking about the dangerous Preydophiles, who lurked in the corners and shadows and lured poor, innocent, mentally ill Predo’s into dark back alleys and motel rooms. There, the rape would be the least of your worries, as their true natural came into play.

True nature…

She knew their true nature now. It was no different to hers. Or her mother’s. Or her father’s. Or her grandfather’s, or brothers or sisters or…

They were just normal mammals. Outside of Zootopia there were places were interspecies marriages, even ones as wild as hyena and bunny, were allowed. There, she wasn’t suffering from a mental illness, but just a bit different. Something that, although a lot of people didn’t like it, was celebrated by its communities. There, the predators and prey just got on. No wonder the Cud club cut off news and information. Where some knowledge did get though, they all did their best to discredit it. It had worked on her, and the city, for decades.

But now it was over. Those kinds of relationships weren’t ‘illness’ anymore, and it wouldn’t be used as a sign that she was ‘compromised’ and unable to work for the police. She could even marry a fox in the future, if she really really wanted to. But it was still such a shock. So quick. So fast. Even the concept of marrying a fox… It would be a silly joke seven or eight months ago.

That was what terrified her. Things had just shaken up so much, and she wasn’t sure if her footing was on firm ground or not.

“Well, if you look at that.”

Her ears perking, she followed Nick’s gaze and smiled. Packs of children were running around and smiling, almost all of them prey. But, here and there, there might be a predator. She looked in closer and saw that they weren’t going without playmates. “They’re getting along,” she said, smiling.

“A barrage of kid friendly re-educational videos, and emergency school classes, saw to that,” came a snarking voice, and she chuckled as she looked up to Nick.

“But they’re no longer fighting,” she noted, hoping it would make him feel better. It had begun to pain her, seeing how his mind would still try and drag himself down, despite all he’d done. His friend groups had always joked that he was needy and pathetic, but she’d come to see him as broken. Broken by mammals like her, which meant she had to try and fix him even more.

His grin faded, and her ears drooped as she watched and listening. “You’ll still have so many who don’t know better. You’ll have adults too, who were shown that hell and thought us preds deserved it. They might get bullied, or…”

“Might,” the bunny cop said sternly, before gesturing over. “But not here. They’ve stopped the fight. Predator and prey, every colour, enjoying themselves.”

He was quiet, and she looked up at him and saw a smile grow upon his muzzle. A small but precious, happy smile. It was infectious too.

“Oh,” he said, looking down. “You enjoying this?”

“I guess I am,” she remarked. She looked at him warmly a bit before staring forwards, twiddling her paws. One of her feet tapped hurriedly on its rest, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. Trying to work out how to say it. Letting the breath out and beginning. “Nick…”

“Right here!”

She smiled, before carrying on. “We may not have met on the right footing…”

There was a wet raspberry, and she turned to see him try to hold it in. The futile gesture ended as he doubled over, cackling and laughing out. She joined him. She joined him hard.

…

“-Right, where was I?”

“Just stating the obvious.”

“Right,” she said, breathing in and turning forwards. “But, within a week, I wanted to help you and save you. I wanted to give you a good life, a fair life…”

“-Aw, shucks!”

“And you could say that was just because you were the first pred I got close to,” she stated. “But that wouldn’t be true.”

He paused, looking down at her. His head tilted to the side slightly. “Why is that?”

“Because, Nick, I realised I want you in my life,” she said, and she watched as his eyes widened. Looking down, she rested her palms on his, making sure they couldn’t escape. She held them and massaged them, she didn’t want to let go. “I dedicated my life towards my career, and I thought that was that, but it wasn’t.” There might have been a tear in her eye, which was stupid. Maybe she was just being a dumb bunny? She looked down and carried on. “When I tried to see other bucks, it’d light a little spark here and there, but with you…”

“It lights a flame.”

One of his paws slipped out and placed itself over hers, and it tightened, and she felt her tired heart flutter with hope. With joy. With completeness. “It does,” she carried on, and she looked up and gazed into those tired amber eyes that had suffered so much but not lost their spark. “And it should be okay to admit that now. With everything that has changed, it should be. But it’s hard to know what’s right and wrong anymore, and…”

“This is right,” he stated, and she saw the tears flowing from his eyes. She saw him lean down, gently placing a kiss on her brow, sending waves of warmth and comfort out from it. “Do you remember when I found you back at your burrow?”

“I do,” she whispered, before she saw one of those grin’s grow on his face.

“You say those two words so very well, Officer,” he chuckled likely. “Something to look forwards to.”

She couldn’t help but laugh from the shock of that kind of statement. Recovering, she saw that he still looked at her.

“Judy,” he began, looking away and scratching behind an ear. “There’s an old rumour about foxes. About what we do when we find our soulmates.”

She paused, thoughts leaving her mind. Her ears were peeled, suddenly enraptured by what he was saying.

“My father did it to my mother, and she to him,” he explained, as he held her paws tight and leant in. “We scream their name…”

And then it clicked. She remembered back in the burrow, hearing him call out before collapsing in a fit of electric shocks. It hadn’t even registered in her mind how content he looked then, in the midst of his torture. She gasped, looking up.

“Threw me a right number when it caught up,” he said, chuckling. “Pissed off a few of my non-fox friends too. Including one who is a fox! But a fennec! And they have no culture whatsoever.” She burst out laughing as he stepped back, a sadder tone coming through in his voice. “But Finnick did have a point,” he noted. “You may have been my soulmate, but pursuing it would have destroyed you. We were all used to being rutted over by life, so we might as well take another one for the team.”

The dark levity pulled her back, and she coughed slightly. “You shouldn’t have had to do that,” she said, croaking a little. The laughter wasn’t helping her throat.

He sighed. “No. It can drive you nuts,” he said slowly. “When I thought you’d sold me out, my soulmate, it… -well it snapped me.”

“And I’m so sorry I was such a dumb…” she began, only to be silenced as a paw went to her mouth.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling as he looked up. “Look where it led to.”

She turned and took it in and smiled as she did so. “We got there. There still might be so much wrong, and if we want to do this it might still cause us a lot of pain and grief, but we can now do it. We got there.”

“We did.”

She paused, before speaking out. “Your father would be so proud of you Nick.”

She braced for it, and then it came. The sniffing. She stood up, out of her wheelchair, and came around to hug him. His paw patted her on her back.

“I’m sure he knows,” Nick said, finding a smile. “I’m certain he is?”

“How come?”

“Because,” he said, a paw massaging one of her ears. “I have proof that soulmates exist,” he said. “And that means souls do to.”

“Well,” she replied. “There’s a kind one looking down on you.”

“If only he’d haunt the guy sending those prank letters,” Nick chuckled. She did too, and they held each other. They didn’t care about the old taboos anymore, or the shaky mix that now existed over the city. They cared about each other. This Christmas, they would stop all the fighting against their feelings, and just enjoy it all.

.

.

.

“-And so, we must move on. We must move forwards. We were a society forcibly divided. Torn apart. Ripped asunder down the middle and pitted against each other. But now, the veil lifted, we see the truth for what it really is. We see the other nations of the world, for whom predator and prey relations are just that! Relations. Friends. Families. Lovers. We must work hard to join them, and undo the wrongs committed in the past. Given my past deeds, I feel that my dedication to this cause is evident. Given my running mate, I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss on our part. We need predator and prey to work together, to build our new future, and that is what we’ll do.”

There was a round of clapping and the speaker bowed. He walked out, off the stage, joined by his running mate.

“Excellent as always Dr Mueller,” she piped up.

The mule adjusted his glasses and looked down proudly. “Says the one who wrote it.”

The little arctic fox vixen smiled, her ears folding up. Were she a pig, a blush would have been visible. “Why, thank you.”

He smiled proudly and carried on walking. This time of year he’d usually be planning for the hospital Christmas party. Instead he was running for mayor. It was a bit of a surprise at first when Chief Bogo, acting as the emergency mayor, had come to him. But he’d explained that he couldn’t keep this job up forever. They needed a new party, chosen in an election, to bring peace. He, and that wonderful red fox, had suggested a predator and prey mammal working together. A true unity government, which would then enforce laws to make sure that this kind of thing never happened again, to pred, prey or any other group that was singled out. While not a law mammal, the legal stuff being handled by a new international team of helpers, his little revolt at the hospital was seen as proof enough that he was a dedicated member of the cause. Being a doctor, a legitimate and well esteemed career, only added to the fact. He was the perfect prey for the job.

He’d been hesitant at first, given his duty. But with so many blackballed medics being allowed to return, and the new predator nurses and midwives being trained up for the massive oncoming baby boom, he’d decided that he could do this. He was proud of it. A bit upset when Nick Wilde chose not to run with him, despite being pushed on by that bunny cop. The poor fox doubted himself, was worried. So, finding the right pred would come later. Not much later, thankfully. Wilde had suggested a writer for his speeches, a modern literature graduate who’d lost her job with the abolition of the collars. She was good, they began talking, he began learning and, soon, Cherry Foxglove joined Mueller on the campaign.

“I hear we’re polling at fifty percent,” she noted, smiling.

“Now that those pro-collar parties have formed into one main one, I’m glad to say that they’re only at a fifth,” he replied. “Hopefully, as time goes on, they’ll fall into the side lines. We want our saner opponents to be our opposition, not the crazier ones.”

“Indeed,” she quipped. “Not that we’re not being a little crazy, aren’t we?” she said, chuckling. They reached a small green room and settled down. Ostensibly, it was to talk about policies and election strategy. Realistically, it was a friendly chat.

“Indeed,” he noted. “Though that ‘Life Partnership’ policy that Wilde asked us to put in for his friends seems to be going under the radar. Doesn’t seem like we’ll have to drop it at all.”

“A late Christmas present to Gwen and Roz,” Cherry announced. “Hopefully, they’ll be as happy as me and my Finny…”

“I hope they are,” he agreed, as he brought out a file. “Now, a new update on the predator dividend.”

“Right,” she agreed.

“The remains of the Cud club businesses have seen their profits move up a bit with the lifting of the embargo. Not crashing down due to competition, as we feared.”

“Still,” she noted, irritated a little. “Not much difference. You see those giant profits, but split between every pred and it’s only $400 or so!”

“Sadly, yes,” Mueller agreed. “Then again, we’ve finished releasing the last of the poor evidence prisoners. About the same amount as there were collar ones.”

“And the pred prisoner population is a fifth of what it once was,” Cherry noted. “We used to be two-thirds of the prison pop, now less than a third.”

“And re-sentencing should get that down to less than a fifth in the next decade,” Mueller agreed, proudly.

“One in twenty-five of us was behind bars, now it’s one in one-hundred and twenty-five,” she continued. “Which, at $60,000 a year a prisoner, means just shy of $2000 bucks a pred.” She smiled a little, before it faltered. “And that’s our compensation,” she noted, sneering a little. “Four to six months of rent money.”

Mueller looked down sadly, before clearing his throat. “But then there’ll come the scholarships, and the training,” he said. “Your sister is helping with the mental health side, and we’re getting tons of funding and support from this charity event that happened a year ago or so. Your children will still get bits of the dividend, and their grandchildren smaller bits. The monsters at the head of all this will get a rope collar around their necks for their crimes. Our new laws will mean that the first an employer will know of your species and name is when you walk through the door! Your gender when you do the phone interview! Things will get better. Let’s not poison the goodwill of the democratic majority just yet, shall we?”

“I know,” she huffed.

“Even if we’d both enjoy it greatly.”

They chuckled a bit, before moving onto lighter things. Talk of family and friends. Of hopes and dreams. Cherry mentioned that her sister Angel had settled into her new job. She’d chosen to leave the city, like so many other preds, and was received with welcome arms in their neighbouring countries. It helped that they spoke the language, and often went to where they were needed. She, and her engineering degree, were up in Fairbanks, Alaspaw. A big new pipeline across the tundra and taiga was being built, with oilrigs on the frozen arctic ocean. The perfect challenge for that sister.

Mueller mentioned that he’d purchased the record that those artists had worked together on, to spearhead their fundraiser. He opened it up and placed it onto the record player, as Cherry looked at the sleeve. Scanning down, she saw something and choked.

“Want some water?” the mule asked.

“No! I…” Cherry began, looking back down at the sleeve again. “That’s impossible,” she said. Then her eyes widened. “Unless…” Her eyes began weeping, and Mueller turned to look at her.

“What’s the matter?”

She choked back a sob. “A dear friend is going to have a very merry Christmas, and the best new year ever,” she replied.

.

.

.

Two months. Two months since the borders had opened. It was odd that he felt scared, but there he was. He’d been worried about startling them, coming onto the television and appearing as a ghost or something. With the diplomatic services still in disarray, he’d chosen to send letters. He’d sent one, waited two weeks, then sent another. Two weeks more, then another. Then one week, and another, and another and another…

Finally, he’d got a reply.

_‘If you’re really alive. If it’s really you. Come home and visit us. But if you’re a sick prankster who wants to screw with me and my poor mother, you’ll get what’s coming.’_

A phone number was included. He’d call it when he got to the hotel.

John looked out of the train as its wheels clicked across the border. He was finally going home. Every nerve was on edge though, every bit of him tense. He’d been supplied with a bodyguard for now, in case anything bad happened. If anyone was still left in there who’d recognise him and not be happy.

Maybe he should have just contacted the leadership? The temporary mayor, whoever he was. Then again, he remembered, he didn’t want his family learning about him that way. Was there even a right way?

He wasn’t sure.

The blue skies outside seemed similar to those that had shone out the last time he’d been here. Back then, he’d stowed away in a grain wagon. In the first one he could find when he saw the train, waiting at its signal. Once he was on the move he’d slowly but surely worked his way along the train. Every breath had been held, every move made with a nervous thought lingering on the state of his heartbeat. It was a good thing that electric shocks tightened your grip, rather than releasing it. He’d spotted a wagon with some grain in the bottom and slid in, making sure he was hidden before venturing up to peer over the edge. Throughout that cold and crisp day he’d been ready to lunge back in and bury himself were he to be discovered. Instead, peeking above the rim, he’d watched as they exited the city state and crossed the border. He’d collapsed with relief and, when they eventually pulled up, the train conductor had got a dreadful surprise.

None would exist for this trains driver. John sat in first class, his paws fiddling with each other as he tried to imagine what to say. How to explain. What they’d look like…

What he had done.

What had he done?

He’d done everything he could, hadn’t he? He’d talk about the terrors and moved from government to government. He’d even helped get the charity relief which was now being used to help reintegrate the pred population. But, in the end, had he done anything to move the liberation forwards one day? Two days?

Anything?

Was it worth the escape, the abandoning of his family, for just that? Would they be mad at him?

He shook his head. He’d had no other option, and he had helped. He knew it. He’d helped those who’d escaped and, thanks to his deeds, he was now helping those still inside. After all, he reminded himself, who raised the mammal who helped to end the horror. Who raised that little hero of his. He wiped a tear from his eye and looked forwards. Into the future. Into the new year. Towards his wonderful boy, and his dear wife.

He missed them so much, and just wanted to see them again.

.

.

.

Judy watched on curiously as Nick put down the phone. He’d seemed stiff and haunted throughout the conversation, as if scared by what was on the other end. It worried her dearly.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, walking over.

He paused, coughing. His ears were peeled back, and she shivered as she saw a paw reach up and brush around his neck. It was such a familiar sight, and it never failed to make her feel ever so slightly ashamed.

“I need to call my mother, Honey and Gwen,” he stated, looking down at her. “Could you get the car ready?”

“Sure,” she replied, pausing as she said it. “Anything the matter?”

“I’ll explain when we’re together,” he said, his voice oddly detached. He didn’t seem like her Nick but, not wanting to press it any further, she did as she was asked. Folding up her wheelchair, in case something happened, she put it into the boot, just as he got out. She drove him down to his mother’s store, where the badger and a familiar swift fox were waiting. Nick walked passed them all, sitting down inside. They arranged themselves around them, their ears pricked and waiting for the first word.

“You’re aware of the letters,” he said, dryly. He glanced around to all of them and his mother nodded.

“You mean the ones claiming to be your father.”

He nodded slowly and carefully, before pulling something out. A folded up record sleeve. Out it came as Nick began talking. “This was made in order to raise funds for the underground railroad and the refugee systems,” he explained, his voice subdued and clipped. “Now being used to help the therapy and stuff… -Cherry got a hold of it.”

“And?” Gwen asked curiously.

Nick handed it over to her and she picked it up, scanning through the names printed on it. The red fox tod waited, his expression unchanging as she froze.

“That’s impossible…” she whispered, staring up and down again. “That’s…”

“Johnny?” Frankie whispered, as Honey walked over, her eyes widening. Judy glanced at them then down again, double taking everything.

“Your father. He’s…”

“Someone with his name is,” Nick stated. He noticed that one of his feet was beginning to shake and he turned to look at it, staring at the floor instead of anyone else. It seemed steadier. “-And I responded to his letters…”

“But he can’t be!” the cream coloured fox almost cried, walking forwards to hold his paws. “He can’t be! We knew where they took him. We know…”

“-We don’t know what happened to him there,” Nick pointed out. He took a steadying breath but still avoided eye contact. His mind was a great big giant mess, his body playing catch up. None of this could be real.

None of it.

“We have nothing disproving the idea that he escaped.”

…

A pin could have dropped and it would have been deafening. The silence permeated the room like a miasma, none of the residents able to believe the idea. Able to let it permeate the heavy shells of cynicism and stubbornness that they’d built to armour themselves from this hell. John Wilde had been dead for twenty odd years, nothing could change that.

“They… they said he!” Frankie began, beginning to choke up. “But they said…”

“Not the first thing they’ve lied about,” Nick said, and for the first time that familiar sliver of hope and joy peeked into his voice. That deep down essential Nickness.

Frankie’s eyes were wide and trembling. “My Johnny…” she whispered, as the first of the choking sobs came out of her. Nick quickly got up and embraced her, cradling her tight.

“Maybe…” he said. “Maybe… -I… -I still think this smells funny, so be prepared.” He was crying too now, and Honey and Gwen and even Judy joined in. “But maybe,” he sobbed. “Maybe.”

He carried on crying, holding his nearest and dearest, old and young, until he was ready. Until they all were. They all piled into the car and drove off, Nick explaining that he’d heard his voice but had no way to be sure. Honey, Gwen and Judy agreed to hold back, this was something personal for the two foxes. The bunny noted though that, if there was some sick prankster there, she’d likely make an early return to duty, effective immediately.

They parked in a carpark of a fancy hotel and got out. Inside, the reception pointed them onwards. Up to the right floor they went and, holding back, Gwen, Honey and Judy watched as Nick knocked on the door.

.

.

.

He’d called him. His boy. His son. His little Tod who he’d last seen two decades ago, from the bonnet of a police car as the cuffs were placed on him. He’d heard the strangers voice, cold and untrusting, and given the basics. How he escaped. The few things he’d done. Nick had apologised for being too cold, he still couldn’t get past the idea that this was some joke. By all rights it should have been, the alternative was impossible.

John said that, as a kit, Nick’s favourite colour was ‘blueberry blue’ and his favourite song was ‘Randy Rebecca Rabbit’.

He’d choked up and sniffed and asked where he could find him. John gave him the hotel name and his room number. Nick had said he’d be on his way, with the family. He said he still couldn’t believe it, but he was starting to. He was hoping it was true.

So, John had waited. Pacing and pacing and pacing and….

**_KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK_ **

His mind froze, and his heart skipped a beat and suddenly he felt like there was death behind that door. He walked forwards, his feet feeling like they were in concrete boots, and he touched the dread ice cold door knob and turned it. With the death rattle of the latch and the pained mortal creak of the hinges, it opened up.

He saw a stranger looking back.

A stranger of a fox whose mouth hung open and trembling in shock and confusion, and who backed off, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. A stranger of a fox who was beginning to cry, tears in his eyes and…

Those eyes, they seemed so familiar.

And then next to the stranger fox he saw a vixen and his heart screamed as it was tortured and mutilated and re-forged. She looked so much older, so little of it graceful, but beneath it all he saw the beauty. He saw her.

And she. She saw the one she’d given her soul to years before. She saw the other half of her who’d been torn off, due to deeds that she’d begged him to do, deeds that she thought had condemned him. She saw the same tod who she’d loved and hated and was destined to be with, and she felt nothing and everything as she looked into his trembling, tear filled eyes.

Nick looked on, seeing his Pops. His father. The wonderful and great fox who he’d always wished to be like. His fur was greyer and coarser, but he was the same father that he’d seen being taken away by the police.

There.

In front of him.

A dead mammal returned from the grave.

Frankie, choking back her sobs and wiping the flood of tears from her eyes, stepped forwards and screamed. “JOHNNY!”

It was a wail filled with joy and tears and the dead fox walking, finally losing it, wailed back. “FRANKIE!”

They ran towards each other and embraced, their bodies jolting as they sobbed and shook.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry for all I…”

“Forget it,” he begged. “It doesn’t matter now.” He pulled back to look over her, taking her in like a mammal dying of thirst would drink at a desert oasis. He turned though, looking back over at Nick. He still looked like a stranger fox, nothing like the little tod he’d last seen. Fox faces changed a lot in the early teens, what with the muzzle growing out, so there was little familiar. But there was enough. More than enough. He looked at the fox and felt joy and warmth and pride, and he lunged forwards and embraced him, feeling the tight embrace return.

“I never knew a father could be this proud,” he whispered and cried, as he felt his son cry back. He looked over to his wife, who he’d stayed faithful to all this time, and pulled her in. Together, with each other, they hugged and cried.

Reunited.

After so long.

No Christmas present could ever compare.

A new year was coming. It would be so very happy, he knew it. No more fear for any of them.

.

.

.

Sometimes, nothing needed to be said. Other times, little. Just them being with each other did so much. But the high, after what seemed like seconds and hours and hours and seconds, finally went, and the others were called in. Dear Honey, and little Gwen all grown up. Her parents had never screamed each other’s name, hating each other for life and taking a good amount of it out on her. He and Frankie had stepped in to provide her shelter and she was like a daughter to him. Seeing her all grown up was just as wonderful as seeing his son.

Then he saw a bunny.

The bunny who’d joined with a fox, their ‘mortal enemy’ according to Zootopian traditions.

But there they stood.

The saviours.

The liberators.

And John began to cry again, and whisper as he did so. “It’s over…”

“What is?” his wife asked.

“The war,” he replied. “The war on all of us. Twenty years it went on. But the war is over. The war is over now…”

 

 

 

 


End file.
